


After the War (Number Neighbours) -- Hogwarts Eighth Year

by FanGirl09



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Draco Malfoy Has Nightmares, Draco Malfoy Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Eating Disorders, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter Has Nightmares, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, M/M, Modern-Technology, Number Neighbours, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Quidditch, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Sassy Pansy Parkinson, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Struggling, Technology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirl09/pseuds/FanGirl09
Summary: Headmistress McGonagall invites back Harry and co. for another year at Hogwarts. Although they all accept, many of them are struggling with the events of the past year. With themselves, with their losses... with PTSD. Harry quickly realises that one of the people struggling the most is Draco Malfoy... but he doesn't know how to help, or what is going on. But when Harry texts his number neighbour as a joke and it turns out to be Draco, he wastes no time trying to get close to him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson & Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy & Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Drarry - Relationship, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley & Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger & Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 70
Kudos: 265





	1. Chapter 1

The rumbling on the tracks, although no different in reality, resonated differently this time. Loud enough to notice to the average person, but for Harry, swirling in his thoughts and numbing them simultaneously. The foliage of the countryside flew past his window in a whirlwind of green, yet he didn’t really see it. It only reminded him of their screams…

“Harry?” His gaze focused on Hermione across from him, her eyes boring into his.

“Er—what?”

She smiled softly, pulled her wand and let the shutter on the window fall closed. The green blur disappeared. “Better?”

He nodded, staring at the thin cloth shielding him from his thoughts. Ron cleared his throat and tore his eyes away. “Do you want anything from the trolley, mate? It’ll be by any minute.”

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts, then scooted one seat over from the window. “Yeah, actually. I think I’ll have a chocolate frog.”

Ron grinned. “I could always go for a chocolate frog.”

Hermione didn’t glance up from the book she had her nose buried in. “You could always go for any type of food, Ron.”

“That’s not true! I can’t stand those bogey flavoured beans…”

Harry snorted. “Can anyone? Does _anyone_ actually like those?”

“No… I s’pose not.”

The three are silent for a few moments, each caught up in their own thoughts, or, book. Harry fiddled with his wand between his fingers, the scar on his right hand catching the light. He glanced away from it to the untied lace on his shoe. Hauling his leg up onto the seat he slung one into a loop and tied it. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Coming back here? After everything… and it’s supposed to just go back to normal? I mean… nothing feels normal. I certainly don’t. This train ride doesn’t… how is this school year supposed to?”

Hermione glanced up at him as he let his leg land back on the floor. “Maybe that’s the point. McGonagall invited us back as the first ever eighth years to finish our education… and if I’m right there’s thirty-three of us returning. Some of us have been injured, some scarred, others traumatized. It’s not _supposed_ to be the same.”

Ron looked between Harry and Hermione. “Wait… there’s only seven dormitories. Where are we supposed to sleep? On the floor?”

Hermione laughed. “You’re just thinking about this now?”

“Well, yeah! I was kind of caught up in other thoughts this summer, and was excited just to go back…”

Harry furrowed his brows. “You think they’ll make another dorm? For the first years? Because every year we’ve had the same dorm.”

“I’m not sure,” said Hermione. “But I’m sure they’ve thought of something.”

*

The Great Hall looked just as magnificent as it had before the Battle of Hogwarts. The windows had been repaired, the ceiling as well, and the tables stood in exactly the same places as they had when Harry had last seen them on a normal school day. Although, despite its beauty, he couldn’t stop himself from tensing when he walked in. Many of the eighth years did as they entered together… all remembering the scene they had left behind the previous year. The bodies strewn on the ground, the yelling, the screaming, the blood and jets of light flying past your head… barely allowing you another day. Of course they all remembered that… who could forget?

They joined their peers at their house tables silently, sliding along the wooden benches to their desired places. Although the school was open, the Hall seemed incredibly empty. There were less students than there had previously been… Harry glanced down the table at the spot where he normally would’ve seen Colin Creevey, his camera lens glinting. The table of Hogwarts staff where he should’ve seen the scowling face of Severus Snape… And, the vacant space at the Slytherin table that belonged to Vincent Crabbe. He could still hear the boy’s scream as he fell into the fire, the look on Malfoy’s face as he watched his friend disappear, and they way that he had gripped Harry as they’d flown out of the inferno— from one monster into another.

Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table with the other Slytherins who had chosen to return. Among them were Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Millicent Bullstrode, and Tracey Davis. It seemed to Harry as though the only Slytherin in his year whom had not returned was the one who couldn’t. His gaze strayed to the slumped figure of Malfoy. The boy who had grown up as his rival, yet during the war had turned around and saved Harry’s life. Of course, Harry had done the same in turn… but where that left them, he wasn’t sure.

Professor McGonagall cleared her voice at the front of the room, causing every head to turn in her direction. She stared out at the faces before her, smiling warmly at her students who had decided to return this year, all eight years of witches and wizards. “The sorting ceremony will now commence! Professor Sprout will bring in the first year students momentarily. As it is our first year post-war, some may be frightened. Many of you, I’m sure, were not convinced about returning this year yourselves. Please make them feel welcome. Treat them well, and each other well, also. That is all.”

The doors of the Great Hall swung open revealing the familiar face of the students’ Herbology professor, who led a group of about thirty students into the hall. The upper-year students all cheered, shouting their welcomes to the shy eleven-year-olds walking past. Their eyes moved sky-wards to the enchanted ceilings, roamed over the long tables and the smiling faces of students. Some smiled, some bit their lips… others looked downright terrified.

The group stopped in front of a stool at the front, where the Sorting Hat, battered but intact, perched. Professor Sprout took her seat at the staff table, and McGonagall held up a piece of parchment.

“Argeynt, Alice!”

A slim, sandy-haired girl stepped out from the crowd. She turned, sat on the stool, cheeks flushed pink as the hat was lowered onto her head. The whole school paused as the Sorting Hat thought to itself and muttered to Alice, and then… “Slytherin!”

Eyes at the Slytherin table went wide as they stared at the sweet looking girl in front of them. Of course, many of them remembered being so young an innocent, it was only that none of them felt that way anymore. Alice blinked at them, confusion evident on her face. She didn’t quite realize what was going through the heads of her peers… the first student sorted right after the war, the war started by Slytherin supremacists, and not fought against by many Slytherin students, was one of them. However, unlike past years, there was no booing. Only stunned silence.

Clearly, the other three tables noticed this hesitation, because soon all three tables were clapping and cheering. The staff joined in, followed, half-heartedly, by the Slytherin students.

Harry watched Alice move to her seat as the next student was sorted. Alice walked along the table, staring at the students at her table who were either shocked or horrified. She caught Malfoy’s harrowed, icy eyes as she approached where the prefects sat. She stopped momentarily and watched his unmoving stare. Suddenly, he tore his eyes away and stared at the table. Alice watched him warily as she sat across from Pansy, who instead gave her a smile and introduced herself and Draco.

“Chang, Jadzia!”

Harry’s attention shifted entirely to the front of the room. The young girl who sat on the stool looked exactly like the young version of Cho Chang that Harry could remember. He pursed his lips, nodding to himself.

“Ravenclaw!”

Of course she’d be a Ravenclaw. Just like her older sister.

“Dangen, Norm!”

“Hufflepuff!”

The Hufflepuff tabled cheered as their, apparently, second student of the sorting joined their table. Harry had missed the first, and apparently another Ravenclaw as well.

“Flynn, Ned!”

A scrawny boy with mousy hair clambered onto the stool. He stared into the crowd for a second, then closed his dark eyes tightly. The hat paused, muttering to the boy, who shrugged. “Gryffindor!”

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor table cheered as Ned beamed, hopped off the stool, and strode down the aisle to where the prefects at the table sat. Ned slid onto the bench beside Hermione, staring at Harry. Harry smiled at the young boy. 

Hermione turned to him, hand outstretched. “Hi, Ned. I’m Hermione—”

“I know who you are,” Ned whispered. “Hermione Granger. That’s Ron Weasley, and he’s Harry Potter. Everyone knows who you are…”

Hermione nodded, sighing as she looked across at Ron, who sat beside Harry. Ron coughed. “You know our names and what we’ve done, maybe… but that doesn’t go for everyone here.”

Ned glanced up at Ron. “A lot of us do. Well, at least, the one’s who grew up as wizards or have older siblings. I don’t mean to sound rude… it’s just intimidating. Being a Gryffindor. I don’t know if I can hold up what you guys have left for me.”

Harry’s heart clenched just as another cheer erupted from the other Gryffindors. Lafayette, Faith, was just sorted into Gryffindor. A darker skinned girl bounced over towards them, brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. She slid in beside Ned, looking at the three eighth years. “What were you guys talking about?”

Ron jumped in before Ned could pick up where he left off. “About how much you first-years know about the older students here.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, smiling at the bunch. “We know a lot. Is that what you were telling them, er…”

“Ned.”

“Ned, got it. I’m Faith.”

“Hello. I was saying that we all know who they are, and a lot of the others, too.”

Faith turned to Harry. “He’s right. I know that you three saved the Wizarding World. That’s Neville Longbottom over there… he killed the bird!”

“Snake.”

“Right… sorry. That’s Luna Lovegood, at Ravenclaw, right? I know she was part of that group you all formed a few years ago!”

Ned smiled at her, then turned to look behind him at other students. “And that’s Draco Malfoy. None of us want to mess with him, we were all saying that outside. He’s evil.”

“How did he not end up in jail?” Faith whispered.

“Beats me,” spat Ned. “He should’ve been sent to Azkaban. A lot of this is his fault, he would’ve deserved it.”

Ron hid a snort with a cough as Harry spoke up. “I wouldn’t say that about him.”

“Why?” Faith asked.

Harry glanced passed them to the blond who sat with his eyes downcast, trying to sink into the floor. He looked back at the two first-years, but Hermione had started for him. “He saved our lives from Voldemort,” she said.

They turned to Harry again. Ned spoke. “But we thought you hated him.”

“We were rivals, that doesn’t mean I hate him. I don’t.”

“Then are you friends?”

“No,” Harry said. “We aren’t friends either. I just don’t hate him.”

Faith opened her mouth to object as McGonagall’s voice filled the room. “Good evening everyone, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few announcements before we begin the feast. First off, I would like to welcome back our eighth years. They are students who’s final year was interrupted during the Wizarding War, and have been invited back to finish their NEWTs. Please treat them as you would any other student.

“Secondly, I would like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Spunks! He has gladly accepted the position and is excited to teach you all this year. Treat him well.

“Thirdly, because of the events of last year I feel it very pressing that I comment on this. The war was fought bravely, and although there were tragic casualties, the students that you see in this room were all very brave and valiant. All of you deserve to be here. Please respect each other. No house is better, nor worse than another… and neither is any student. Work together, support each other… you have all seen some horrible things. The staff have been trained to help you deal with your trauma, and we would like you to know that there is always someone here to help you.

“To my first years, we all welcome you with open arms. If you do not know me already, I am Headmistress McGonagall, as well as the Transfiguration Professor. This school is your new home, and your peers, your family. The staff are here to support you as you develop into wonderful young people and perfect your magical abilities. Enjoy your time here, seven years will have gone by before you know it.

“As always, no one is to go into the Forbidden Forest. It is still off limits, as it the Restricted Section of the library, unless you have a signed note from a teacher.

“And lastly, to my eighth years, once again. I ask you to please stay behind after the feast has ended. I will be leading you up to your new dormitory, as we do not have room for another dorm in your old ones. The staff and I have worked incredibly hard on it, so we sincerely hope it is to your tastes. And with that, let the feast begin!”


	2. Introductions and Implications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eighth-years are brought to their new dormitories. Once the boys and girls separate, the boys all spend the evening chatting and goofing around--mostly.

Professor McGonagall’s robes billowed behind her as she swept around the corners of the corridors. The eighth-year students followed her eagerly, excited, yet nervous to see their new arrangement. Turn after turn they made, the architecture catching their eyes as it had always done… although now it had a newer feel. And an intimidating reminder as well.

McGonagall steered them through the doorway into a tower, then up the winding staircase. Paintings stared at the throng of students, and with a pang, it struck Harry that he knew their faces. The walls were lined with portraits of past students, of aurors lost in the war, members of the order… Harry’s eyes watered as he came to the grinning face of Fred Weasley. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stopped. Ron touched the painting gently, letting his finger fall from the top of the frame to the bottom. The rest of the group halted as well, and McGonagall smiled sadly back at them.

“He can’t speak yet,” she said. “None of them can. They’re not strong enough. But soon enough, they’ll be able to.”

Ron only stared at Fred, who waved at him. Both of them had tears in their eyes. Hermione gently pulled Ron away from his brother and they continued up the stairs to a giant frame on the wall. It held the Hogwarts crest, all four houses represented equally. McGonagall pushed its center inwards and said, “Lime lollies.”

The portrait swung inwards, like how the one in Gryffindor tower did. The old witch stepped inside, beckoning for the rest of them to follow her inside. Once this was achieved, smiles graced many of their faces. The common room was mainly stone and wood, with a large fireplace on one end of the room. In front of it sat a wooden coffee table surrounded in a semi-circle with a long couch and two chairs. On the far left was a large bay window with a sill, as well as a few small tables and one long one beside it. On the immediate right on the door they had just come in was an enormous bookshelf, which Hermione grinned at, eyes sparkling. In the middle of the room, on a purplish-grey carpet were two long couches and two armchairs, which formed a circle. A couple of end-tables sat with them, as well. And finally, a spiral staircase with a gold-coloured railing led to where they could all only assume was their dormitories.

Professor McGonagall grinned at their beaming faces. “As you can see here, we have tried to incorporate your house colours into the fabric on the chairs and couches, but the rest of the room remains neutral. The staircase behind me leads to your dormitories. This year, we have decided that all boys will share a dorm, regardless of house, and so will all of the girls. Each dormitory has a washroom, also. Please, do try to keep it relatively clean.”

“Which one is which way?” Neville asked.

“Boys are on the right, girls are on the left. Oh, and also, Prefects, could you please step forward so I may speak with you.” Hermione, Ron, Malfoy, Pansy, Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott, Anthony Goldstein, and Padma Patil stepped forwards. “The eight of you,” she continued, “will continue your duties as normal. I will be sending an email to you all tonight with your schedule. You may still give and take house points, as well as give detentions, but please be reasonable. You are the role models for our new students, and all of the other students who have returned, the same as you. Show them our unity and inter-house cooperation. I am counting on you.”

The group nodded together, then stepped back into the group of their peers.

“A few final notes before I release you to your own devices. You are allowed to sit at whichever table you would like for meals. Also, for this year only, you will be allowed to return to your positions on your house Quidditch teams, should you so choose.” She glanced at a few students in particular, whose eyes shone with this news. “When you eventually retreat upstairs for the night, please note that your beds have been chosen for you. The colour of your bedding represents your house, and you will find your trunks at the foot of your bed. Any questions?” No one raised their hand. “Perfect! I hope that you all have a wonderful final year. I know you are all dealing with your own grief and your own struggles… I hope that you can overcome you differences and find support and friendships in one another. And, please do remember, that you can always reach out to myself or another staff member if you feel you need help, or someone else does. Goodnight to you all.”

Professor McGonagall nodded at her students as goodbyes echoed from their mouths. She strode through the path they opened for her, and she exited the room. Once the portrait closed behind her, a tense silence filled the room. Eyes flit from one student to the next, all pleading for someone to cut the ribbon with their words. In the end, it was Hermione. 

“Alright, everyone. I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted. Any of the girls care to come upstairs and see our new dorm with me?” A few girls, mainly Lavender, the Patil twins, and Hannah, followed her right away. A few lingered in small groups downstairs, while a few more trailed after Hermione.

The boys all looked at each other. “Well,” Seamus said. “Anyone care to find out how they managed to fit us all into one room?” There was some laughter from the group of boys as they followed Seamus to the stairs.

Harry and Ron both sighed with relief when they saw their trunks beside each other. Their beds were made up with scarlet blankets and golden pillows—curtains hanging above scarlet as well. Harry flopped onto his bed on his stomach, staring both ways to the ends of the long room. His bed sat almost directly in the middle of the room on the one side. The two long walls were spanned with beds, eight on Harry’s side, seven on the other. The walls of the room were grey, but the colours of the bedding and the hardwood floors made it feel much more welcoming. A smile tugged at Harry’s lips as he watched the other boys find their beds and belongings. It was good to be back, despite everything.

After a few minutes of near silence, Harry, Ron, and Seamus decide to move closer to where Neville and Dean’s beds were on the right side of the room. Harry and Ron sat together in the windowsill, while Seamus joined Dean on his bed. The five talked about their summers, their NEWTs, Quidditch, anything other than what had just happened only two months prior.

Harry surveyed the room to see what the other boys were up to. The Hufflepuff boys were sitting on the far side of the room, talking quietly. Malfoy was laying on his stomach on his bed, his nose buried in a book. Goyle was annoying Blaise, who sat with his arms crossed on the edge of his bed. Terry Boot was seemingly playing a game on his phone, as was Theodore Nott, and the other Ravenclaw boys were talking amongst themselves.

Harry looked to Ron beside him and then to his friends. He glanced back out at the other boys as he spoke. “Should we ask them all to come over here? We could try out some Weasley products or those candies that make you impersonate animals, or something.”

“Why?” Dean questioned. “We don’t even really know them.”

“I think that’s his point,” said Ron, nodding. “If we’re gunna spend a whole year with them, we should all know each other.”

“Look,” Harry interjected. “I know this wasn’t what we all had in mind… but at least we’re back. So what’s the harm in getting to know each other. We’ve all changed since we first met, and since the War, so what’s the harm in goofing around a bit?”

Dean nodded. “Fair point. You want to call them over, or should I?”

“You can.”

“Cool.” Dean turned to look backwards over his shoulder at the rest of the room. “OI! All you lads, yeah, Ernie, you too. Come sit over here with us. We’ve got some Weasley products to try out and some weird candies to help us make fun of each other.”

Although the group of Gryffindors received odd looks from many of the boys, they came over anyways. Goyle lamented over (with Blaise looking thankful to have an excuse to leave) and leaned against the wall. Terry put his phone down and came over as well, sitting next to Neville on his bed. Malfoy closed his book, slid off his bed, and sat cross-legged on the floor next to Dean’s bed. The Hufflepuff boys stopped their conversation to join the rest of the boys, as did the Ravenclaw boys and Theo.

Once they were all settled around the window, Harry spoke up. “Okay, so I know this is going to sound stupid, but hear me out. I think we should introduce ourselves, because a lot of us don’t really know each other or anything about each other.”

“So, what do you want us to do?” Ernie asked. “Just say our names?”

Harry chuckled. “Your name is kind of a given. But we could also do… how about an interesting fact or two about yourselves?” The group shrugged collectively, some snickering out a “yeah” or a “sure.” Harry pointed to himself. “I guess I’ll start. Uh… I’m Harry. I… man I didn’t think this through. I can no longer speak Parseltongue and I kind of have an obsession with Chocolate Frogs.”

Ron snorted. “Kind of?”

Harry glared at him. “Your turn.”

“Shit. Uh, Ron. I am super clumsy and I don’t actually eat as much as Hermione makes it seem like I do.” That earned him a few chuckles. Ron turned to the boy next to him.

“I’m Michael. I don’t know how I made it into Ravenclaw but I’ve just learned to except it, and even though I’ve ever played it, I’m really intrigued by the muggle game baseball.” Harry chuckled under his breath as Michael turned to the next person.

“The name’s Seamus. I’m notorious for blowing shit up and I’m gay! All you need to know really.”

“Seamus, mate, we all already knew that,” said Terry.

“Yeah, well, too bad,” Seamus replied. “Dean?”

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes. “I’m Dean. I really love football, and I’m dating Seamus. But you all knew that already so, uh… I am actually really good at Ancient Runes even though I hate it with a passion.” He looked down to the floor at the next person.

Malfoy looked up at all the eyes staring at him. He picked at his fingers in his lap. “Draco. I speak French and I… er—”

“He’s only thinking so hard because all of his hobbies include being a Death Eater,” sniggered Ernie. Some of the boys laughed.

Malfoy’s eyes turned to icy daggers. “Funny. What I was going to say was that I’m actually really interested in becoming a healer _and_ I have the brains to do it.”

“Are you sure about that?” Seamus joked.

“The only person who’s beaten me in grades is Granger. She’s the _only_ one.”

“I meant about becoming a healer. I thought destroying people was kind of more your thing.”

Malfoy dropped his gaze. “Think whatever the hell you want.”

The room went silent for a moment, until a cough drew everyone’s attention. “I’m Blaise. Despite being in Slytherin I hate the colour green, so that’s rather unfortunate…” He gestured to his bed. “Besides that… I really like dogs. I want a beagle.”

Harry laughed. “Of all dogs, Blaise, you choose a Beagle?”

“What? They’re cute!”

“Sure, but why not like a Golden Retriever or a lab or something?”

Blaise waved a hand. “Eh, we’ll see.” He nodded to his right.

“I’m Justin. There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m literally boring as hell and can’t make a joke to save my life. But I could probably out-eat _all of you_.”

“Hey, why’re you looking at me,” Ron exclaimed. The boys all laughed.

After all of the boys had introduced themselves, Harry brought out some candies that allowed people to impersonate animals and objects. Harry distinctly remembered whistling steam out of his ears when he was younger.

He held the box out the Ron first, who seized a truffle the shape of a music note. “Oh God, here we go,” Ron laughed, popping it in his mouth. The boys watched eagerly as he swallowed and waiting for the effect. He opened his mouth to speak, however, his words were replaced by piano music. As he moved his tongue to speak, different letters became different keys on the piano.

The boys laughed together, some jokingly dancing to the music. The conversed together as they goofed off with the candies. Next, Michael sounded like a duck. The boys chortled as he hopped around, jumping over their feet and flapping his arms. Harry’s head fell back in laughter as Michael stepped on Ron, causing him to yelp.

After the boys calmed down and Michael handed the box of sweets to Seamus, Harry spoke again. “Actually, that just reminded me of something. Sorry if this is a little personal, but it’s a warning. I’ve always had nightmares, my childhood was kinda rough, but since the end of the war they’ve been especially bad. I can put up a silencing charm at night if you all want me to, just so that you don’t have to wake me because I wake you.”

“Absolutely not,” Justin Finch-Fletchely barked. “We are all dealing with stuff. We are all probably going to have nightmares at some point, and would probably all appreciate being woken from them. I don’t think that any of us should use silencing charms at night for that.”

Harry bit his lip, looking around at the other boys. He noticed that Malfoy, who’d had his head down the entire time, was still not making eye-contact with anyone. He was incredibly reserved, and Harry was not used to it in the slightest. He looked back at Justin. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys.”

“Drop it, mate,” said Neville. “I think he’s right. What do you all think?”

There was a unanimous round of yesses and nods among the boys. Michael spoke up. “We all just went through a war. We will need to be woken up. Harry, just go with it.”

“Okay,” he said, but at the same time, Seamus erupted with a whooping laughter. It reminded Harry somehow of a parrot, but also of a clown you’d see at a circus. Seamus eyed them all, and Dean soon started meowing at him like a kitten. That made Seamus actually laugh, and the whooping became louder. Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he glanced at the door, praying the girls wouldn’t come and bang it down with a noise complaint.

Dean handed the sweets to Malfoy. The blond stared at them curiously, then handed them off to Blaise. Blaise pushed it back into his hands. “Come on, Draco,” he whispered. “Try one.”

Malfoy raised his eyes to meet Blaise’s. There was something present there which Harry couldn’t understand, yet wished he could. Malfoy shook his head, trying to make Blaise take them back. He wouldn’t.

“Scared of some sweets, Malfoy?” Goyle boomed. “Doesn’t seem to be the only thing you cower away from.”

Malfoy didn’t rise to Goyle’s taunts. Harry’s eyes widened, flitting back and forth between the two, former, friends.

“Snake got your tongue?” Ernie asked. “Worried you’ll make more of a fool of yourself? Let loose some dark secrets?”

Malfoy still didn’t respond. He shoved a chocolate in his mouth to shut them up, and soon more mewing filled the room.

Goyle chortled. “How fitting!”

Ernie laughed, as did some of the other boys. “Why did you even bother to come back, Malfoy? Why are you even here?” Malfoy still didn’t answer. “Stupid prick,” Ernie mumbled. “Acting like this just cuz’ he doesn’t rule the school anymore. Daddy’s power ran out.”

Abruptly, Malfoy stood. He handed Blaise the box of sweets and turned his back, heading for his bed. Harry watched him with curious eyes, the other boys mainly with sneers of satisfaction. Malfoy snapped his curtains closed, hiding him from their glares. The boy’s turned back to each other, rolling their eyes. The malice was gone though—they knew they’d went too far.

Ernie looked to Harry. “I didn’t mean to—”

Harry held a hand up as Blaise sighed, staring at the empty spot next to him. “Guys, I know we don’t all get along… but we can’t do that. We have to live together for the next year, so that means we all have to make it work.” He turned to Blaise. “What was that about?”

Blaise cocked an eyebrow at him. “Think about it.”

A thousand images, sounds, and feelings flashed through Harrys brain. From the war, from camping, from the news, from his visions… He swallowed thickly. “Someone should go… see what’s up.”

Blaise stood. “I’ll go.” The group watched as he dusted himself off and headed for Malfoy’s bed. Blaise stuck his head through the emerald curtains, and their muffled voices could be heard. A moment later Blaise closed the curtains and returned to the group. He sat back down on the floor, looking up at Harry. “He said he’s fine and he’s just going to read.”

Harry blew air out of his cheeks. “Do you think that’s true?”

Blaise shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. Probably not. I think he’s struggling just like everyone else.”

Harry nodded. “Right.”

“Struggling with what?” Terry voiced. “The fact that his racist family lost the war of pureblood supremacists?”

“How could it even affect him? He just hid out with his family the entire time,” said Seamus.

“I don’t care if he isn’t fine,” said Wayne, speaking for the first time in a while. “He was a Death Eater. He _should_ be ashamed. He _should_ feel bad.”

“Stupid prat deserves whatever he got, and whatever comes next,” said Justin.

Blaise looked at Harry, eyes pleading. Harry interjected. “Everyone, shut up!” The boys all turned to him, startled. “You guys don’t know anything about the behind the lines of the war, okay? I’m not going to go into it, but I owe him my life. And his mother. Now, we’ve been rivals the entire time we’ve known each other, but if I can play fair, so can all of you! We have to stick together… you need to understand that. This year is about moving past everything. Inter-house friendships and cooperation.”

“We don’t all have to be best friends,” Blaise said. “But contrary to what you probably think… not all Slytherins are evil.”

The boys all stared at each other, contemplating what the two boys had said.

“We need to accept each other,” Harry said softly. “All of us. And as much as you may not like it, that includes him, too. Got it?”

The boys nodded, silence overtaking the group.

Ron looked between Harry and Blaise’s sullen faces, and those of his peers. He faked a stretch, yawning loudly. “I think it’s time for bed.”

*

Even after such a long day, Harry found himself awake at two a.m. Aggravated, he grabbed the Marauder’s Map and summoned the information to the page. Casting _Lumos,_ he scanned the page to see exactly were in the room everyone was located. On Harry’s left was the door to the stairs, as well as to the bathroom. On his right, the window. On the same wall as him, Wayne slept closest to the door, followed by Michael, Theo, Seamus, himself, Ron, Ernie, and Neville. On the opposite wall, Tony was closest to the door. He was followed by Justin, Terry, Goyle, Malfoy, Blaise, and Dean, who’s bed had a great view of the castle grounds.

Harry startled as a noise reached his ear, although he couldn’t quite place it at first. He listened harder, dropping the map onto his stomach. Somewhere in the room, a sniffling noise was echoing. After another minute, Harry frowned, realizing that it wasn’t some sort of cold—one of the boys was crying. He didn’t know who, couldn’t recognize it as one of the Gryffindor boys. Besides, they wouldn’t cry by themselves in the middle of the night when they thought no one would hear them. Seamus and Dean would be together, and Ron or Neville would come to him. They always did, even if Harry wasn’t always the best at comforting people. He tried his best, though. 

The crying doesn’t get very loud, explaining why none of the other boys got up to investigate. Harry was probably the only other person awake. He debated getting up to see who it was and maybe sitting with them for a moment, but he took too long to decide. There were a few shuddering breaths and then the boy stopped crying. Harry’s heart lurched. He knew how it felt, to cry by yourself at night, after everything that had happened. Night was when his thoughts were the most overwhelming… they overpowered him sometimes, though not as often as they had at first. Harry bit his lip as he shoved the map under his pillow after deactivating it. He rolled over on his side, wondering whose pain he’d been eavesdropping on.

No matter what, though, he hoped that they’d feel better in the morning. When the sunlight came in through the window, the shower would wash away the thoughts of the night before, and the whirlwind of classes could distract them. Maybe then, like Harry, they’d be okay. For a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I will probably do a lot of writing over the next few weeks so I hope to update more! Let me know your thoughts. Until next time, Emma :)


	3. Hey There, Number Neighbour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spots something weird getting ready for class, Hermione tells the boy's about antics in the girls' dormitory, and Harry discovers his unlikely number neighbour.

Miraculously, Harry slept with no nightmares. He expected to dream about the war, however, being in a new environment in the castle that he’d never seen before might’ve had something to do with it. He smiled to himself upon that realization, pondering how he’d gotten that lucky. His smile faltered, however, when he wondered if everyone had had the same luck.

Mumbling reached his ears and slowly became clear. The rest of the boys were up getting ready for classes. Showers were running, a toilet was flushing, trunks opening and closing, groggy early-morning conversations…

Harry slipped off his bed, grabbed his toothbrush from his trunk, then headed to the bathroom. As told by the large clock on the far wall, they still had plenty of time to get ready and eat breakfast. All of the boys who weren’t showering were in the room, chatting and changing.

“Morning, Harry,” called Neville, struggling to tuck his shirt into his trousers.

“Morning, mate. Sleep well?”

“Like a rock!”

Harry chuckled at that, eyes moving to where he could see Justin and Tony having a conversation of their own.

He stepped into the bathroom for the first time, scanning it. There was a row of sinks on the left hand side, across from a row of six toilet stalls. Straight ahead of Harry were six more stalls, this time for showers. They had tall white doors which matched the small tiles covering the floor. All of the showers were occupied, so Harry figured they were filled by the boys he hadn’t yet seen: Ron, Seamus, Malfoy, Blaise, Terry, and Michael.

Harry stepped up to one of the sinks to brush his teeth. The mirror was steamy so he couldn’t see his reflection, but he was positive that his hair was sticking up in every direction. While brushing, he looked around the bathroom, again. Tall stalls, mirrors over the sinks, towel hooks, white walls, white floor, red splotches… _wait, what?_

Harry did a double take, staring at the spots of red on the floor. By one of the middle showers, the water was tinged slightly with red. A few droplets of blood could be seen on the floor there, as well. Harry sucked a breath in. The boys would usually shave in a mirror, and showers don’t normally have mirrors… So why was one of the boys bleeding? And which one of them was it? Harry stood on his tip-toes trying to see their hair over the stall doors, but they were too high. He stooped to look under. Pale skinned feet. That ruled out Blaise…

Harry shook his head and returned to the steamy mirror. It kept nagging at him as he finished brushing his teeth. He’d heard no sounds of cussing or pain… He sighed lightly, spit out his toothpaste, then left the bathroom.

Back at his bed he stuffed his toothbrush away, then opened his trunk and grabbed his robes. Once his pants were on, he drew his curtains back and sat on the end of his bed. Ron emerged then, clad in a towel around his waist. After a moment inside his curtains he returned.

“Morning, mate. How’d you sleep?”

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Harry smiled. “You?”

“I’m surprised I didn’t sleep in,” Ron laughed.

“Oh, yeah? I wish I could sleep like that every night.”

“Don’t we all. Say, when do you think you’ll be holding Quidditch trials?”

Harry pondered that for a minute. “Er… probably in a couple of weeks. Let everyone settle back in and get used to this new normal, ya know?”

“Yeah. Makes sense.”

Harry glanced down as he tied his tie. “What’re our classes today, d’ya think?”

“Probably the same as they were last year. Not that we’d really know that schedule.”

“Not really. I’m sure it won’t be too bad. It’ll be weird being back in class, though.”

Ron chuckled. “I’m sure Hermione is looking forward to it.”

“I am, too,” Harry smiled.

Just then, Malfoy emerged from the bathroom. As the other boys had been, he was only covered by a white towel around his waist. Harry’s eyes slid over the boys incredibly pale skin—the amount of weight he’d clearly lost in his stomach, face, and chest. With a pang, Harry found the thin, silvery lines across the boy’s chest and stomach. Harry’s jaw dropped as he stared, eyes only moving from that spot when Malfoy’s stood still. He was raising his eyebrows at Harry. When the Gryffindor glanced back down at the scars, Malfoy’s eyes followed. He pursed his lips and shrugged at Harry, leaving him speechless as he turned and closed his curtains.

Ron had lines etched on his forehead when Harry turned back to him. “What was that about?”

Harry gulped. “Remember that curse I used on Malfoy, back in sixth year?”

“Yeah.”

“Those are the scars I left… Snape said he got lucky. He could’ve died. He lost so much blood that day…”

“You remember that day really well,” Ron said, eyes fixed on Harry.

“Of course!” Harry exclaimed, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “I could’ve killed him… I never meant to really hurt him. Yeah, we never liked each other, but I’d never wish that kind of harm on him.”

“You still think about it, or was it just because you saw the scars?”

“A bit of both,” said Harry, rubbing his neck. “I didn’t know what to do. I remember dropping next to him in the bloody water, no clue how to fix it. He was bleeding out right in front of me, and the look on his face… God. Ron, I don’t ever want to see that look on his face again. I don’t care who he is.”

Ron nodded, surveying his best mate. “Alright, Harry. I understand. Do you wanna head for breakfast?”

“Yeah. Just let me finish tying my shoe.”

*

The Great Hall was full of chatter when Harry and Ron plopped down at the Gryffindor table across from Hermione. “Good morning,” she chirped, smiling at the pair over her muffin. “Have a good night last night?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “It was alright.”

“What did you girls do last night?”

Hermione laughed. “If last night was any indicator of what this year is gunna be like, it’ll be a riot.”

“How do you figure?” Ron asked.

She chuckled. “Well, it started pretty calm. We were all just doing our own thing. I was reading. Mandy, Pansy, and Daphne were on their phones. I’m pretty sure Hannah was already asleep. But a couple of the girls were levitating pillows, trying to drop them on each other’s heads. It was Kellah and Susan, I believe. All of the sudden, one smacked Pansy right in the face!”

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry smirked. “That couldn’t have ended well.”

Hermione’s bushy hair bounced as she threw her head back with a laugh. “You should’ve seen the look on her face! She was furious! It was war at that point. I ducked off the side of my bed when objects that weren’t pillows started flying past my head. I lost my place in my book, but it was actually quite fun. I enjoyed myself. I think we all kind of called a truce by the end. Especially when we had to lump all of our belongings in the middle of the room at the end to sort it together because everything was mixed up.”

“How’d that go?” Ron asked.

“Not bad, actually. Lavender and Parvati stood in the middle, picked something from the pile and asked who’s it was. I learned a lot about some of the girls.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” Hermione leaned back in her chair, picking a piece from her muffin and stuffing it in her mouth. “Fay is a horseback rider, which is really cool. Pansy is a lot more into makeup than we all thought, and she’s apparently really good at it. Padma and Parvati don’t like a lot of the same things—you should hear them bicker! Daphne is as much of a bookworm as I am, and Sue and Hannah both keep gifts from their younger siblings in their trunks because they’re too young to be at school.”

“Wow, you got all that from sorting your stuff? What kind of shit did you guys throw at each other?”

“Secret,” Hermione said, a finger to her lips. Then she laughed again, finishing the last of her muffin. “How about you guys? Was it awkward?”

“A little,” Harry admitted. “The Slytherin guys aren’t very well liked by everyone else, so that was a bit of an issue. Blaise is cool though, seems nice enough.”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded. “Nice guy. Wish Goyle hadn’t come back though.”

Harry rolled his eyes, piling eggs onto a piece of toast. “I think most of us think that. Especially Malfoy.”

“I thought they were friends?” Hermione voiced, speaking what everyone had been thinking the previous night.

“We thought so too,” said Ron. “But I guess something happened between them after Crabbe died in the fire.”

“He was taunting Malfoy,” Harry added. “Then everyone else joined in… it was a mess.”

“Harry had to tell them all off after Malfoy left. Blaise, too.”

“That’s rough,” said Hermione. “It’s been hard on all of us. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“None of us do, ‘Mione. That’s what I was trying to tell them. We all just went through a war… let’s keep the peace,” Harry replied, sighing. He glanced over to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting with Pansy and Blaise… but Goyle lingered there, too. Harry rolled his eyes. “Come on. We better get to class.”

Harry and Hermione slid into a pair of desks, and Ron sat in front of them with Dean. Pansy and Blaise walked in and sat at different tables—Pansy across from Ron with Daphne, and Blaise across from Harry, next to an empty desk that was presumably for Malfoy. Blaise took out his materials and spread them on the desk, similar to how Hermione did with hers. Harry glanced around as some seventh years filled the room. Ginny appeared with Luna, and the pair sat behind Harry and Hermione.

Malfoy suddenly appeared beside Blaise, letting his bag hit the floor. He sat wordlessly, not looking at anyone, wiping something off of his lips with the back of his hand. A few more seventh years walked up the aisle between the seats. A few cuffed Malfoy up the back of the head. “Hey! Who let the Death Eater in?”

The class laughed. Malfoy sneered at them. That seemed normal enough, but something was nagging at Harry. He couldn’t get what happened last night out of his head. Couldn’t ignore the look Blaise was giving the blond that he thought no one else could see as Malfoy kept his head bowed. Couldn’t help but feel like there was something wrong with this picture.

*

“Come on, Ron,” Hermione chortled. “Just do it!”

“Fine, fine,” Ron gave in, a smile spreading across his face. He opened his messages and brought up a new conversation. ‘ _Hey, number neighbour,_ ’ he typed, then pressed send.

“Now the other one,” Harry pressed. “Come on now.”

Ron rolled his eyes, yet they widened as a message popped up on his screen. ‘ _No._ ’ He stared incredulously at the screen, exiting the chat, then swiping left to delete it. “Bugger.” He sent the same message to his other ‘Number Neighbour,’ hoping for a better turn out.

‘ _Who tf are you and why are you texting me? Bugger off.’_

Ron sighed. “I guess the people who post this stuff online have just gotten lucky. Your turn, Harry.”

“Okay, okay. I guess it’s only fair, since you’ve both done yours.” Harry opened his messages, brought up a new convo, then typed in his number minus one on the last digit. ‘ _Hey there, number neighbour.’_ He pressed send.

Immediately, a phone dinged nearby. Harry held his breath—it was at the Slytherin table. He watched as a white-blond head of hair leaned over, took a phone from a bag, and read the message. Pansy and Blaise leaned over, too.

“Hey,” Pansy beamed. “You got a text from your number neighbour!”

A slight smile appeared on Malfoy’s face. Harry watched as he typed, and his phone vibrated in his hand. ‘Hey.’

Hermione whipped back around to face Harry and Ron. “No. Way,” she laughed.

Ron blinked a few times, then whispered in amusement, “You got _Malfoy_.”

Harry stared down at the grey speech bubble on his screen, then locked his phone. His read receipts were off anyways. “What are the chances?”

Hermione shook her head, still laughing. “Oh, that’s too funny.”

“Of all people,” said Ron. “Harry, you should totally mess with him!”

“No, Ron. What did we literally just talk about last night?”

“But he won’t know it’s you,” Ron protested.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to do that, as fun as it sounds.”

Ron rolled his eyes, digressing. “Fine.”

Harry pretended to be annoyed at Ron for a minute or so. But truthfully, for the rest of dinner, he kept glancing over to the Slytherin table. He didn’t really know why he was doing so… but he supposed over his school career, that perhaps he’d made a habit of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone! I hope that you enjoyed that chapter! Let me know your thoughts, as always. Until next time! -Emma :)


	4. Peter Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night conversations and early morning distress.

**A/N: Graphic descriptions of self-harm. Please do not read if this will be a trigger for you.**

The next few days passed without issue. The eighth-years began to settle into their new environment, and their new normal. By thursday, they already had multiple homework assignments, and were looking forward to heading back to the dorm after dinner to procrastinate on them. The common room was welcoming that night. All of the eighth years, or at least most, it seemed like, had wanted to socialize and have some fun. There were games of exploding snap by the couches, wizard’s chess on the tables by the window, a few of the girls laughing at tiktoks sent to them by one of their muggle sisters, and two boys wrestling in the corner while another recorded it. Harry and Ron were on one of the couches playing snap, while Hermione sat curled up in an armchair beside them, reading.

“Dammit, Ron!” Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. “Really?”

“Hey! I can’t help that I’m good at this game. Don’t knock my skills.”

“You mean luck,” said Hermione, nose still buried in her book. Harry snorted as Ron glared at her. She glanced up at him briefly, “You know it's true. Harry could’ve easily beaten you.”

Ron turned back to the game, muttering under his breath. “Harry could’ve easily beaten you.”

Harry snorted, shuffling the cards. “Maybe I will this time.”

“We’ll see.”

Harry cut the cards once more, then started to deal them between himself and Ron. As he looked up a dark-haired girl flopped down, cross-legged on the ground against Hermione’s chair. Still, she didn’t look up. She flipped her page, speaking clearly, “What would you like, Pansy?”

The Slytherin didn’t miss a beat. “I’m bored. You’re reading. Let’s play snap.” To Harry and Ron's surprise, the two girls had been talking quite a bit since they got back, although they never did before. Ron had told Harry he thought it was because their beds were across from each other, and they had a few classes together. 

“I’m reading.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “That’s what I just said.”

“And I’m enjoying my book.”

Pansy huffed, glancing around the room. She smiled as she spotted Blaise coming down the stairs, his wand and a textbook tucked under his arm. “Blaise, have you seen Draco?”

The dark-skinned boy nodded. “Yeah. He’s upstairs doing homework.”

“Boo. Blaise, snap?”

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “No. Time to do some reading for me.” He sank down in the other armchair there, opening his book and fiddling with his wand in his right hand.

“Granger?”

Hermione side-eyed the girl on the floor, who was smirking up at her. She rolled her eyes, setting her closed book on the table, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Fine. Just one game.”

While Pansy and Hermione played, Blaise read, and Ron took a trip to the bathroom, Harry pulled out his phone. It opened on his messages from dinner, the ‘Hey,’ still lingering at the bottom of the screen from Monday. he'd never responded, feeling awkward about starting a conversation, even though Malfoy had no idea it was him... but the last two days he'd found himself wondering. Out of curiosity of where this might lead, Harry typed back. _‘_ _So… you go to Hogwarts, too. I heard a phone ding at dinner the other night and someone said that someone got a message from their number neighbour just after I sent the text.’_

Not thirty seconds later, a message lit up Harry’s screen. ‘Huh, so we might know each other.’

Harry smiled to himself. ‘ _We might._ ’

‘Who are you?’

‘ _That’s classified._ ’

‘Why?’

_‘Until we know each other better.’_

‘Okay fine, then I won’t tell you who I am, either.’

_‘Okay.’_

‘What house are you in?’

_‘Nice try.’_

‘Year?’

_‘Still, no.’_

‘Fine. I won’t tell you either.’

_‘Okay.’_

‘You want to get to know me?’

_‘Yeah, I guess.’_

‘Where do we start?’

_‘What do you mean?’_

‘Uh… I’ve never really had anyone get to know me before… how do you do that?’

Harry felt a pang in his chest. Could that really be true? Draco Malfoy, one of the most popular students growing up… never had anyone get to know him? What about Pansy and Blaise? They seemed to be good friends with him… ‘ _Why not?’_

‘No one’s been interested. Thought they knew me already, or just didn’t care enough. Friendship isn’t what they wanted.’

‘ _What did they want?’_

‘That would give me away…’

_‘So you don’t have any friends?’_

‘I have a couple, but not a lot. And they don’t know me as well as they think they do.’

_‘What do u mean?’_

‘I’ve just got some stuff going on, and they don’t really know about it. But it’s not important right now. You don’t even know me.’

_‘Not yet.’_

*

Harry didn’t head to bed until late that night. He’d spent most of his evening planning Quidditch trials and new plays with Ginny. They were up until two am talking technical and tactical approaches until she could barely keep her eyes open, almost spilling a mug of tea on their carefully sculpted diagrams. Harry sent her off to bed, hoping that she wouldn’t be caught out of bed after curfew. He wasn’t sure if McGonagall, or Filch for that matter, would be more or less strict after the war.

Harry shuddered as the door swung shut, the thoughts ghosting over him and mingling with his reality. He held his hand up in front of him, surveying his fingers. He flipped it over and stared at his palm, then dropped it, startled by the crackling of the fire. After extinguishing it, Harry took a deep breath, then hurtled up the stairs.

Carefully, Harry opened the door and stepped through. All of the boys had their curtains drawn and seemed to be sleeping. All except one—Malfoy. The blond Slytherin was laying on his left side, wand lighting the words of his book. Harry frowned, crossing the room to his bed. Though he thought the other boy’s eyes were trained on the lines of text, Harry didn’t see his brief, curious glance. Once in his pyjamas, Harry headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Upon emerging, he headed back to his bed… or at least, he intended to.

He stopped between his bed and Malfoy’s, contemplating. The boy looked so peaceful reading, unlike how he’s seemed since the sixth year. He didn’t seem on edge now, or like he was carrying the world on his shoulders at sixteen years old… However, something still nagged at Harry. He tossed his toothbrush onto his bed and padded over to Malfoy’s. Hesitantly, he tapped him on the shoulder.

Malfoy rolled onto his back to look at Harry, book resting on his chest. He raised his eyebrows. Harry cleared his throat. “You should sleep.”

The blond scowled. “You’re not my Mother, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I never said I was.”

“Then why are you here?”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but caught a purple bruise on the other boy’s cheekbone. “Did somebody hit you?”

Malfoy’s eyes were back on his book. “No. Trip-jinx.”

“Oh.”

He scoffed. “Think it’s funny? I thought you’d be the first person to throw one my way.”

“You know full well that I wouldn’t do that,” Harry retaliated, squinting.

Malfoy looked up. “What? You think things have changed?”

“You don’t seem to hate me as much.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

Harry laughed abruptly. “You’re talking to me.”

“Very observant, Potter. And you’re talking to me _why_ exactly?”

“I was curious why you’re still awake.”

“Stop being a mother hen. Why are _you_ up so late?”

“I was making Quidditch plans with Ginny. You didn’t answer my question.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Do you ever shut up?”

Harry stared into his icy irises. “I will if you answer my question.”

“Fine. I don’t sleep much anymore. Happy?”

“No,” said Harry, frowning. “Is it falling asleep or staying asleep that’s the problem? Or nightmares, maybe?”

“Yes. Now please leave me alone. I happen to _like_ reading.”

Harry rolled his eyes again, scratching the back of his neck. “Fine. At least _try_ to sleep, okay?”

“Yes, _mother._ ”

“Stop that!” Harry glared as Draco snorted, then shook his head as he headed back to his bed. He glanced back over at the other boy. “Night, Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

*

Heart pounding, Draco startled awake early the next morning. The nightmare, now receding back into the depths of his brain, had left him sick and sweaty. His platinum hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaked in sweat. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pushing through the curtains, he flew to the bathroom and into a toilet stall, dropped to his knees and emptied his stomach. He tried to stay quiet as he retched, not wanting to wake any of the other boys when they still had half an hour to sleep. He panted in between heaves, frustrated at himself for allowing this to happen again. Although, he knew it wouldn’t stop anytime soon. It happened every day… it got the best of him.

It started as strictly a symptom of anxiety, back in sixth year. The stress was too much for him, and when he became overwhelmed, upset, scared, or anxious, he often was sick as a result. However, it had evolved passed that… and he wasn’t in control anymore.

After wiping his mouth and flushing the toilet, he surveyed himself in the mirror. His whole body was slender, and he thanked Merlin for the fact that his robes hid the extent of the damage that was so obvious in his pyjamas if you looked for too long. He looked sickly, or was at least getting there. His ribs had become more prominent, face almost gaunt… His eyes narrowed at his reflection in disgust. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the dark bags under his eyes weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. The spark was gone from them, too. He hadn’t seen it in years. As far as he was concerned, they were dead.

He turned from the mirror abruptly, heading to the showers to wash away the terrors of the previous night. Draco turned the water on and stepped into the shower, resting his forehead against the wall as the water ran over his body as soon as the stall door was shut. Eyes shut tightly; he remembered the events of the day before. The texting… why would anyone want to talk to him? Want to get to know him? Of course, they didn’t know it was him… but if they did… And then there was Potter. He came up and actually _talked_ to him like he was a normal person… a normal conversation, like he was checking in with a friend… He should’ve just told him to bugger off, but the kid was persistent as fuck, and he had to admit… it was nice. But then he’d blathered and admitted to the trip-jinx and not being able to sleep and _Merlin,_ he was so stupid! People had never necessarily been a big fan of him, but at least then he was spending more time on his feet than on the floor. Now he was being forced to hear what everyone else had to say about him and his family… he hadn’t chosen that fate! It had chosen him… But he supposed he deserved it… Hadn’t he made some hurtful remarks to others before?

He wrenched his eyes open, glaring at the Dark Mark on his forearm. At the scars above and below it… the ones overtop that had become thin, white lines instead… At the chunk of angry, red skin that reformed every time he tried to cut it off. Eyes furious, loathing the brand of evil, of the choice he didn’t get to make for himself, he summed a razor. Draco stuck the corner into the red mark, then dragged it upwards, slicing underneath the skin. The snake could still be seen underneath—he dug deeper. Blood filled his palm and ran down his arm and leg, washed down the drain by the fierce pressure of the water. Finally, it severed, falling to the floor of the stall, leaving his arm searing and leaking fervently. He banished it, still cradling his arm. However, no matter how hard he tried to get away from it, to escape evil’s shadow, he wasn’t Peter Pan. He couldn’t get away, and the Dark Mark appeared in the same spot it would be for the rest of his life.

Draco sliced into his arm above and below the mark in desperation—angry red tears and gashes standing out against his porcelain skin. Five more, six more, seven… the back of his head hit the wall as he dropped the razor to the floor, bringing a hand up to his mouth to stifle a sob. His shoulders shook as he cried, hand still over his mouth so that the boys whom were starting to enter the room wouldn’t hear him. An angry, pained scream of a sob tore from his throat and his face scrunched up as he sank to the floor, watching the blood dance its way down the drain. It still flowed from his arm and he watched it from where his head rested on his knees as it left his body. He bit down on his hand to keep quiet… a silencing charm would be useless now, he couldn’t open his mouth to speak without a sound escaping that he wouldn’t want to.

Ten minutes or more he sat like that, water cascading down his body, over his puffy eyes, over his scars, his protruding ribs… He breathed deeply in an attempt to calm himself down. _It’s fine, Draco… You deserve this… It’s fine…_ However, no matter what he said, a part of him that lingered in the back of his mind told him otherwise. _No…_

Finally, he picked up the razor and banished it back to his trunk. He washed the blood from his arm and drained the red colour from the floor of the stall and any of the water around him. Swiping at his cheeks angrily he waited until his breathing was even, and no one was coming in or out to turn off the water. Once it was off, he threw a towel around his waist, pressed his bloody arm against the towel harshly, and hurried back to his bed, snapping the curtains shut.

*

Harry watched the boys chatting around the room and he sat at the end of his bed, wiping sleep from his eyes. For the past five minutes, Ron had been talking to him groggily, but Harry was sure that neither of them would remember that conversation after five more. His eyes wandered to the bathroom door, waiting for someone to exit the shower so that he could get in. Just as he was about to look back at Ron, the door swung open. Malfoy emerged; white towel wrapped around his slim waist. Harry furrowed his eyebrows as the blond hurried to his bed with his head down, then snapped his curtains shut wordlessly.

Ron eyed him, praying that Harry’s sixth-year obsession hadn’t returned. “What? Were you expecting a hello?”

Harry shook his head, turning to Ron. “Huh? No.” He stood and headed for the shower. He slipped into the shower Malfoy had clearly just been in, as it was the only vacant one. Once the door closed Harry turned the water on so that it was burning hot. He never got hot showers as a child, and now he cherished them. What he was not expecting was the pungent, metallic odour that filled his nose once the steam started rising. At first, Harry wasn’t sure what it was, but his eyes suddenly widened and he gagged on the realization that the smell was blood. Why had Malfoy been bleeding?

It didn’t make any sense. The boy had seemed fine not two minutes ago… Maybe it was someone else? Maybe they had nicked themselves…? But Harry knew that wasn’t it. It had been Malfoy, and somehow, that unsettled him even further. Had it been him when he’d seen blood a few days ago? And if so… why?

Something wasn’t right. Something about the way the boy carried himself. About the way he spoke and acted during class. About the way he seemed like a shell of who he used to be, progressively for the last few years.

Something wasn’t right, here.

Malfoy wasn’t okay.

Harry didn’t know why he cared… but he did.

And he had a good chance of being able to find out what was up.

He had Draco Malfoy’s phone number.

And he was anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This was a particularly hard chapter to write for me because of the self-harm. I hope it came across the way I was intending it to. Let me know what you thought of it. Thanks for reading. Until next time, guys. -Emma :)


	5. Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odd morning encounters, texting, and muggles confusing (interesting?) Ron and Draco.

By the time lunch rolled around, Harry had been wondering what had happened all morning. It wouldn’t leave him alone, the smell of blood nagging at him during his lessons. It had to have been Malfoy… right? He was the only one in that stall that morning, and the scent had been _strong._ Harry slid onto the bench in the Great Hall beside Ron and pulled out his phone.

_‘Hey, how’s your day going?’_ Harry returned to the task at hand, placing two sandwiches on his plate. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice, sloshing a little over the side of his goblet when his phone buzzed.

‘Fine.’

_‘Something wrong?’_

‘Nope. Tired.’

_‘Didn’t sleep well?’_

‘Never do.’

Harry frowned, thumb texting furiously as he shoved the sandwich further into his mouth with his other hand. _‘Why?’_

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

_‘Okay.’_ Harry glanced up at the Slytherin table, searching for the familiar blond head. Malfoy sat with Pansy and Blaise, pushing food around his plate. It was virtually untouched. Harry turned back to his friends. Hermione had a textbook in front of her plate, eyes rapidly scanning the words. How she took information in that fast always baffled him. Beside him, Ron had already finished one sandwich and was working on the second one. He looked up at Harry, eyebrows raised.

Ron swallowed, then gestured to Harry’s phone. “Are you gunna answer that?”

“Huh?” He looked down, and sure enough, his screen had lit up.

_Draco Malfoy:_ ‘Are you a guy or a girl?’

Harry chuckled, swiping left to reply. _‘Guy. U?’_

He watched Malfoy’s face, where a small smile appeared. He texted back instantly. ‘I’m a guy.’

Ron looked over Harry’s shoulder and he flinched, almost throwing his phone. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” said Ron, cringing. “I forgot about that. Are you texting Malfoy?”

“S’alright. And yeah.”

“What’s he sayin’? Does he know it’s you?”

Harry laughed out loud. “No! And I don’t plan for him to.”

Ron smirked. “Can’t mess with him if he knows it’s you, I guess.”

“I told you,” Harry stated as Hermione looked up at the two of them. “I’m not going to mess with him. I think something’s up.”

“Harry, please don’t start this again,” Hermione practically begged.

He huffed. “I don’t mean something evil. I mean I think something’s wrong.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you thick? Of course there is! We all just went through a bloody war.”

“I know, ‘Mione. We’re all dealing with it. But I mean more than that… I don’t know.”

Ron glanced at Hermione, then back at Harry with a look he couldn’t quite understand. “Okay, mate. Is that what you’re talking about, because I doubt he’d just tell you.”

“Nah. He just asked me if I was a guy or a girl,” Harry shrugged.

Ron snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

“What?”

“He probably hoped you were a girl.”

Harry glanced across the hall at Malfoy, then back at Ron. “Maybe.” Out of the reach of Ron’s prying eyes, Harry typed another reply. _‘Cool. Not gunna stop talking to me now that u know that, r u?’_

‘No. I don’t plan to.’

‘Good’

Harry smiled as he locked his phone, slipping it into his pocket. He returned to eating, shoving a good chunk of his second sandwich into his mouth. He and Ron goofed around, wagging their sandwich-stuffed mouths at Hermione, who scowled. She rolled her eyes, stabbing a strawberry with her fork. It backfired though, splashing her blouse with juice. She stared down at it disappointedly before using a spell to clean it. The boys suppressed their laughter, biting their tongues until she looked back up. “Let’s go to class.”

*

The trio entered the potions classroom together, taking their seats as they laughed at Ron, who stumbled over a chair. Harry and Hermione slid into a table together, with Ron in front of them. Slughorn was writing on the blackboard at the front, his messy scrawl covering the entire thing. Today’s potion would clearly take a while, and Hermione pulled out her materials and began taking notes. Reluctantly, Harry copied her, taking down his hints and other anecdotes on a piece of parchment. Most of the class did the same as they settled in. Malfoy was the last one to enter the room, plopping down alone in the seat across the aisle from Harry as the bell rang.

Slughorn almost instantly set them to work, saying he’d be coming around to check on their progress. They could work in pairs if they chose to, so Harry and Hermione decided to work together. Hermione had always been a brilliant student and Harry had a knack for potions, so it didn’t seem abnormal for them to partner up. Harry took to peeling, chopping, and weighing ingredients while Hermione added, stirred, and made adjustments as necessary. A plume of purple smoke burst from their cauldron and Hermione sneezed, her nose smudged with its colour. Harry laughed as she scrunched her face up, then went cross-eyes staring at her nose. Ron turned to them, chuckling at her as well.

The class chatted idly as they worked, seventh and eighth years mingling. Houses mingling. Harry grinned down at his scales. _Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe house unity_ could _happen._

Simultaneously, Harry and Hermione whipped their heads to the side as they heard both the bang of an expanding cauldron and a sharp gasp. Malfoy’s cauldron had been the culprit, and he sat at his desk, eyes blown wide and breathing quickly. He’d crossed his arms and backed as far back in his space as he could from his desk, eyes slowly becoming glassy. The two Gryffindor’s watched as he retreated into himself for a moment. He quickly snapped out of it, yanking his phone out of his robe pocket and stuffing headphones in his ears.

Harry and Hermione exchanged concerned glances, then returned to their potion. They both knew what the other was thinking. They too, as had many around them, reacted similarly to things before. The realization was slightly startling, as he had been on the other side. As reluctant as he’d been, he had still been a Death Eater. But both students also were aware that he’d had it rough over the last few years, too.

Harry glanced back over at Malfoy after a moment, a noticed that his breathing was still erratic. He tapped Hermione’s shoulder, gesturing to the Slytherin. She bit her lip. “You could text him, ask if he’s alight,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No. he’ll know it’s me, and he can’t know yet.”

“Fine. We’ll scribble a note on that scrap of parchment.”

“Yeah, that works.” Harry handed her the parchment, then continued slicing as she wrote. He read it over when she placed it in front of him. ‘You okay? – Harry & Hermione’ He levitated it and let it fall onto Malfoy’s desk.

The blond picked it up, eyes scanning Hermione’s neat handwriting. An emotion flickered across his face that Harry didn’t recognise. Something between softness and a sneer replaced it, like they were fighting for dominance of his facial features. The note quickly landed back on Harry’s desk. ‘Fine, Mother Hen.’

Hermione gave him Harry an amused look as he scribbled back. ‘You sure?’

Malfoy rolled his eyes at the paper. ‘You never stop, do you?’

‘Nope.’

Malfoy left the note on his desk without a reply, but Harry swore he saw a smile flicker across his face as he rolled his eyes once more. He wondered why Malfoy lacked so much venom, as he’d become so accustomed to it now. It was almost unsettling without it. _Almost._ But not. It was kind of nice, not bickering. Not trying to one up each other even in the first few days. But it did make him wary, because something had changed. A lot.

Harry caught Hermione staring at him out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head.

“No seriously, what?”

“Nothing, Harry!” She smiled then, something glinting in her eyes. “How did the Quidditch planning go last night with Ginny?”

Harry grinned. “Good. Really fantastic! I think we’ll do really well this year actually, I’m excited. It will be nice to play again, proper.”

“I bet. It’s nice to see you excited about something again.”

“It’s nice to _feel_ excited about something again.” Harry paused, handing her another ingredient. She dropped it in and stirred. “How’s it going with all the girls in your dorm?”

“Great, actually! I didn’t think we’d all get on so well. But they’re such nice girls, most of them. Very different personalities, though.”

Harry shrugged. “I figured. I mean, you’re all in different houses.”

“I know, but even within the houses. Since first year I haven’t exactly meshed well with Lavender and Parvati’s personalities, and Kellah, Fay, and Annie have always been quiet. But they’re _all_ that way. All the houses. I mean, Pansy it super outgoing and spunky, but Daphne is quite poised and reserved. Not snobby like I thought she’d be though. Sue is ridiculously funny, and Padma is a born leader.”

“I’m glad you guys are all getting on so well.”

“Me too. Honestly, Harry,” she said, glancing up from her stirring. “I was really worried about this arrangement. But I like it. A lot.”

“I wish I could say the same for me,” Harry laughed. “I’m sure we’ll all warm up to each other. It’s just going to take some time.”

She nodded. “Time. Forgiveness. And an open mind.”

*

Dinner passed quickly and soon the trio were heading back to the common room. Their footsteps echoed off of the walls as they jogged up the steps, secretly happy that they no longer had to worry about them moving. They had stayed longer at dinner than most of the other eighth years, and the common room was bustling when they walked in.

Harry searched the room for Malfoy, but he was nowhere to be seen. At the same moment, Blaise passed Harry on his way out, seemingly amused by Harry’s search.

“Looking for Draco?” Blaise asked.

“Er, yeah. Have you seen him?”

Blaise nodded back towards the staircase. “He’s probably upstairs. See you later.”

“Thanks. See you.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat at a table by the bay window, intending to do homework. Harry pulled his phone out from his pocket and opened his messages. His fingers flew over the keys, genuinely curious about the reserved Slytherin. _‘whatcha up to?’_

A moment later, as Harry flipped through a textbook, a reply popped up on his screen. ‘Reading.’

_‘Ew. You sound like my best friend.’_

‘Your best friend sounds like someone I’d be friends with’

Harry snorted, drawing Ron and Hermione’s attention. He just waved them off, shaking his head. _‘Yeah, okay lol. Do u read a lot?’_

‘Always.’

Harry made a face, surprised at this revelation. He knew Malfoy was smart, but he’d never realized how bookish he really was. _‘Why’_

There was a pause for a few moments as Harry scrawled the answer to the first question from his potions homework down on a piece of parchment. His eyes flit back and forth between his book and his paper, drops of ink dotting his path. He cursed, removing them with his wand, then checked his phone when it lit up. ‘Its an escape’

_‘From what’_

‘Im not quite ready to talk abt that yet’

_‘Okay. Where do u like to read? In the library?’_

‘Sometimes. Sometimes in my room.’

_‘U just stay cooped up in there?’_

‘ya. Its easier.’

Harry scowled. _‘why?’_

Malfoy must’ve take some time to think about his answer, because Harry was able to finish three questions before the answer popped up on his screen. ‘I don’t wanna come out. No one tries to make me. Its easier to hide from ppl now than to face them.’

Harry bit his lip, contemplating his reply. He knew coming back couldn’t have been easy after the war—especially due to his allegiance. What people _thought_ they knew. _‘Why would u hide from them?’_

The reply was instantaneous. ‘long story, but I deserve it. So its okay, I guess.’

Harry felt a pang in his chest, his eyes widening. He was taken aback by this feeling and looked down at himself. He heard Hermione’s concern in her voice as she said, “Are you okay, Harry?”

He startled, eyes searching her face before his brain fully processed her question. “Yeah! Yeah. Sorry, just… never mind.”

She scrunched her brows, but quickly returned to her work. Harry returned to his conversation, fingers flying over the keys. _‘why tf would u deserve it’_

Another instant reply. ‘that would take too long to explain, and make my identity way too obvious.’

Harry huffed. _‘Oh.’_ He cursed himself mentally due to his reply. His brain whirled, trying to come up with another way to get him to talk. _‘You get bullied?’_

‘idk if id call it that’

_‘What would u call it?’_

‘Im not sure.’

Harry rolled his eyes, jaw set. _‘Do u want me to talk to someone?’_

‘U don’t know who I am. Remember?’

_‘Oh yeah.’_

‘And no… I deserve it anyways.’

The pang came back, and Harry clenched his teeth. _‘I’m sure you don’t.’_

Another instant reply. ‘Don’t be.’

Harry chewed on his lip, setting his phone face down on the table. Hermione looked up at him, then over at Ron who was playing a game. She rolled her eyes. “Are you guys going to do any work?”

“Eh,” said Ron. “Maybe.”

Harry just looked at her, only half paying attention. His brain was preoccupied.

“Fine,” she announced, shutting her book. “I’m going to the library early then. Ginny said she’d meet me in an hour. I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Ron said. Harry said nothing. Ron waved a hand in front of his eyes, snapping when that didn’t work.

Harry snapped out of his daze. “Huh? What?”

Ron chuckled. “Come on, mate. Let’s go upstairs. Maybe we’ll get some work done up there where it’s quiet. Wanna work on the potions together?”

“Sure.”

The two boys ascended the stairs, lugging their bags over their shoulders and their partially done work in their arms. Ron managed to twist the knob with his elbow, to which Harry gave him a bewildered look. Ron simply shrugged, a smile on his face.

They made their way to their beds in silence, not wanting to disrupt the only other person in there—Malfoy. He was laying on his stomach, reading, book propped up on the foot of his bed. Harry decided to copy him, spreading his work out in front of him, and praying that his inkwell wouldn’t fall over. Ron sat against his headboard; parchment draped over a textbook. His potions book was open in front of him, and he glanced down every few seconds to read from it. The boys bickered back and forth periodically about their answers.

After about a half-hour, Harry was tired of keeping a constant eye on his wobbling ink well. He banished it. “Accio, pen,” he muttered. A black ballpoint pen zoomed from his trunk and into his waiting hand. He clicked it, then began writing once more. After a few moments, however, he glanced up after feeling like he was being watched. And he was right. Both Malfoy and Ron were staring at him. “What?”

Ron laughed. “Is that that thing that ‘Mione was using back in the summer?”

Harry chuckled. “Yes. It is.”

“What’s a pen?”

Harry’s gaze shifted to Malfoy, who looked skeptical, but curious. The corner of Harry’s lip quirked in amusement. “It’s sort of like a quill. Except you don’t have to dip it in ink all the time.”

Malfoy quirked his head. “Then where does the ink come from? It’s… muggle… right? So it can’t be…”

“No, it’s not magic. There’s a tube on the inside.” Harry twisted the end off, pulling out the tube and handing it across to him.

He took it tentatively, eyes focused on the half-clear, half dark tube of ink. He rolled it between his fingers, looked in the hollow end as well as the tip. Then he handed it back to Harry. “So the ink is in the tube, and it comes out when you apply pressure?”

“Exactly.”

“Huh.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “So is that all muggles have to write with? Like us with quills?”

“Nah. Hold on… Accio, pencil.” A sharpened, wooden pencil flew into Harry’s hand and he tossed it to Malfoy. “They’re made of wood. There’s graphite inside.”

Malfoy tested it on his parchment. “It’s grey.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be.”

“It’s very faint… how do Professors read their work?”

Harry glanced over at Ron, who was listening intently. “Well, sometimes it’s hard if you don’t press down hard enough. Some are more faint than others. You’d usually use them for math, drawing science diagrams, learning other languages…”

“Why?” Ron asked.

“Because it’s temporary. You can erase it.”

“How?” asked Malfoy, examining the pencil.

“See the pink tip on the other end?” Malfoy nodded. “Rub that against the pencil mark you made.”

He did as Harry said, then, “Huh.” He twiddled it between his fingers. “What else do muggles have?”

Harry counted them off on his fingers. “Let’s see… we have highlighters, pencils, pens, Sharpies…” He stopped when he saw both of their blank faces. “Highlighters are bright coloured ink that you put over words in a textbook to mark important stuff. And sharpies are permanent markers.” More blank faces. “Like pens… uh… they’re usually thicker but sharpies have fine points usually… but I guess Crayolas are washable so they also aren’t always permanent like pen…”

“In English?”

“Shut it, Ron,” Harry laughed, shoving his pillow at him. He ducked as he began speaking, the pillow flying back over his head. “I don’t know how to explain them all, but there’s a variety.”

Malfoy nodded. “Okay.” He returned to his book.

Harry stared at him for a moment more, quizzically. _What a weird exchange,_ he thought. Himself and Ron returned to their homework for another twenty or so minutes before Ron spoke up again. But this time he wasn’t asking Harry and question. He was asking Malfoy. And it wasn’t about potions. “Say, Malfoy?” The blond glanced up without moving his head, brows raised. “Why aren’t you teasing us yet? I mean, you always do and now…”

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Would you rather I did?”

“N-no,” Ron stuttered, alarmed by both his response and the warning look he received from Harry. “I was just curious…”

“Well, Weasley. You two aren’t the only ones affected by the war.”

“We know that—”

“Well you don’t _know_ me. Never have. So for the love of Merlin, just leave me alone.” Ron only stared at him. “ _Please_.”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“Just stop.” There were tears in his eyes, Harry could see them from their proximity, but he held them back as he spoke. Malfoy returned to his book.

Ron flushed a bright red from the tips of his ears to his chin, stuffing his book as close to his face as he could. Harry knew that feeling, the one of wishing the world would swallow you up whole… He bet that Malfoy was feeling it, too. He watched as Malfoy looked back up at Ron’s hidden face, and relief washed over him. Harry bit his lip as he watched him, sure Malfoy thought he wasn’t watching.

Thought that Harry didn’t see the tear that fell onto the page of his book.

Harry’s heart clenched again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I had fun writing this chapter, so let me know what you think! Until next time. -Emma :)


	6. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco had a few unexpected encounters that day, and all of them had to do with none other than Harry Potter.

Most of the other boys were awake when Harry sat up the Wednesday morning. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his curtains open, and could see his peers milling around the room, chatting idly as they got ready for the day. However, Harry quickly noticed that he wasn’t the only one who’d left their curtains open—Malfoy had done the same thing. His hair stuck up slightly where it hit the pillow, and he looked more relaxed than Harry had seen him in a long time. In his outstretched hand lay a novel, but what novel it was Harry could not quite make out. Malfoy was only holding onto it loosely, as if it would fall any moment.

Harry chuckled to himself as he rose, bare feet hitting the cool floor. He padded over to Malfoy’s bed quietly. Being friends with Hermione, he knew that bookworms losing their place was disastrous. Timidly, he attempted to pry the book from the other boy’s limp hand, but was shocked when he jumped up, startled, wand raised and pointed at Harry. The latter jumped back, hands up, one still clutching the book. Draco’s face was contorted, anger and fear mingling there.

“Oi!” Michael yelled. “Leave ‘im alone, Malfoy!”

The boys all spun to face the pair, and a commotion erupted around the room.

“Knock it off, Malfoy!”

“Gerroff, Ferret!”

“Fucking Death Eater! Who let _you_ back in? Seriously…”

“I knew this would happen!”

“Back off!”

“Stupid Git! Can’t stop fighting, can you?”

“Do you really need to cause any more harm than you already have?”

“Don’t need someone else ending up like Crabbe!”

Malfoy’s eyes widened in horror as he lowered his wand, staring around the room, taking in their words. He looked back at Harry, eyes dim.

“Malfoy—” Harry called out, but the boy had already snapped his curtains shut. He tried to convince himself that the sound he heard from behind the curtain wasn’t real… that he’d only imagined the muffled scream or sob of frustration that had torn from the other boy’s throat. His chest burned.

After dropping the book to the ground and sliding it under the curtains, Harry headed back to his own bed to get dressed. He pulled on his dress shirt, sweater, and robes, fiddling with his tie to get it to sit properly. Ron asked him about their classes from the day before, standing in front of Harry, ready to go, as he tied his shoes.

As Harry stood to leave with Ron, Malfoy emerged from his curtains. The boys all froze, staring at him silently. Malfoy glared at them, icy eyes penetrating them. “WHAT,” he bellowed. “Can I not just brush my bloody teeth? Can’t I do _anything_ without being accused of plotting some evil scheme? For Merlin’s sake!”

The blond stormed to the bathroom and Harry watched him go, then turned and left the room with Ron. 

Malfoy, Harry noticed, never came to breakfast that morning—but he did beat them to potions. He was the first one there, already copying the instructions from the board. Harry and Hermione slid into their seats, with Ron in front of them, speaking lowly until the class began to fill with other students. They chatted through most of the class, gossiping and laughing as they brewed that day’s potion. Blaise sat across the aisle with Malfoy, but despite the darker skinned boy’s efforts, the blond never spoke to him.

He was silent all day. Whenever Harry saw him in class or in the halls, his head was bowed, no words ever crossing his lips. He never saw him in the Great Hall either, for that matter. Not at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Not once. _How is he eating,_ Harry wondered? _Or is he?_

After dinner the trio returned to their dorm. Hermione and Ron left to find a table to spread their books and papers out on and begin research for their newly assigned essays. Harry, thinking of his forgotten book by his bed, assured them he’d be right back, and _no_ , _Hermione, he wasn’t blowing off his homework._

Harry bounded up the stairs to the nearly empty dorm. As he entered Malfoy glanced up from his book at him, then continued reading wordlessly. Harry turned his back to him as he searched his trunk for his textbook. Shaking his head, he stood, going to his nightstand instead. It wasn’t there either. But as he turned, brows furrowed, he caught a glimpse of the cover between his nightstand and his bed. “Aha,” he whispered, picking it up. “Found you, you bugger.” Behind him, he thought he heard Malfoy snort, but when he turned around the boy’s face looked exactly the same as it had before.

Harry turned to leave but hesitated as he stepped away from his bed. He shook his head, took a few more steps, then turned again. He stared at Malfoy laying on his stomach, hair blocking his eyes from view. He sighed to himself, stepping closer to the other boy. He stole himself before asking, “Are you okay?” There was no way the other boy didn’t hear him in the stark silence, but he did not give any indication that he had heard Harry. “Malfoy?” Still nothing. “Malfoy. Are you okay?”

“For fucks sake, Potter,” he snapped, raising his head to look at Harry. “Will you just shut up?”

“I’m only asking—”

“Well stop.”

“Why?”

Malfoy dropped his gaze, staring at the floor. “Why would you assume that I’m not?”

Harry swallowed thickly; eyes fixed on the boy in front of him. “We all went through a war… Just like you said the other day.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, he found that Harry’s piercing green eyes were still boring into him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to say that if it’s not true. We all went through stuff. We’ve all seen death, seen torture, felt pain, lost people… I’m not okay sometimes…”

Malfoy looked back down at his book. “Yeah, well… you have a reason not to be.”

“And you don’t? I’m sure those things happened to you, too. Crabbe died. Voldemort lived in your bloody house!”

Malfoy flinched, but tried to cover it up but readjusting his position. Harry’s eyes narrowed at him. “Yeah. He did. Anything else you’d like to remind me of, Potter? Or is that enough for one day?”

Malfoy’s icy eyes were piercing as he glared at Harry. He hadn’t meant it that way, but it was too late. The damage was done. He gulped, opened his mouth to speak…. But nothing came. He closed it promptly, turned, and left the room. As he made it to the bottom of the stairs a few pairs of eyes landed on his. Blaise and Pansy stared at his red cheeks—his lip bloody from biting it. They eyed him and he inhaled sharply, tearing his eyes away and hurrying over to Ron and Hermione. He hadn’t met to upset their friend. Honestly! He was just checking on him…

“What’s wrong, mate?” Ron asked as he approached.

Harry slammed his book on the table accidentally and cringed. “Nothing.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, honestly. Just drop it.”

“Was it Malfoy?” Harry glanced up at Ron. “Well, he’s always in there.”

“Please, just drop it, guys. I said something stupid. That’s all.”

“Okay, okay,” Ron digressed, holding his hands up. “Let’s just get started then. Hermione, what were you saying before?”

*

A scream pierced the midnight air, cutting through it so completely that all of the boys practically jumped out of their beds. It held pain and terror, causing those awake to search avidly for the source. Many of them headed for Harry’s bed, remembering his warning from before. However, when Harry threw his curtains aside, their faces became shocked. Ron stared at him groggily, brows furrowed. They all turned to look at the only bed with the curtains still drawn. Malfoy.

Another scream rang out and a few of them jumped. Dean covered his ears, looking at Harry and Ron, as if begging them to understand his silent plea. Ron turned to them all. “One of us needs to wake him.”

“What if he lashes out?” Justin asked, voice shaking.

Dean glared at him. “He’s not going to lash out! Can you hear him? Do you know where that—”

“For fucks sake, guys,” Harry interjected, pushing past them. “We can’t just leave him in that pain. Merlin, let me do it.” He pulled the boy’s curtains open, stepped inside, and then pulled them shut again. Malfoy lay curled up in his bed, writhing in pain and throwing his head back and forth. Another scream started and Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He grasped the boy’s arm, but Malfoy yanked out of Harry’s grip. “Malfoy, wake up!” He tried again, but the other boy seemed more frantic this time as he ripped away from Harry. “Malfoy, wake up! It’s not real. Wake up. Wake up!” Malfoy screamed again. He had to hold the other boy’s arms down to get him to stop thrashing so he could speak to him. “It’s not real, Draco. Wake up. It’s not real, I promise. He’s not here, Draco. Wake up. Wake up!”

Draco sat bolt upright with a gasp, shoving himself back against the wall, staring straight ahead. He was panting, eyes wide. His jaw quivered as his eyes watered, swallowing thickly. He attempted to supress the first one, but quickly broke down in sobs. Startled, but not surprised, Harry slung his arm around the boy’s back. Draco struggled at first, pulling away from the comforting arm. “I’m f-fine! Leave me alone!”

“You’re not fine,” he whispered, resting a hand on Draco’s upper back. Draco pushed him off again, turning his head away from whoever was there with him, not aware enough to be able to tell. He couldn’t stop the sobs that tore from his throat, and he shook his head at himself, barely able to draw in a breath. “Draco…”

Finally, he let himself be pulled to Harry’s side. Harry could sense the fear and the pain coursing through Draco’s body as he cried violently, sobs wracking his body.

A million thoughts whirled in Harry’s head. He didn’t know what to do… what to say. Here was his supposed rival, ex-Death Eater, broken boy… in tears against Harry’s side. Needless to say, Harry never thought he’d see the day where this situation arose. But before his eyes flashed images of the sixth year, when Harry had walked in on Draco sobbing in the bathroom. He couldn’t help but wonder how things would have gone if he had consoled him, just _talked_ to him even, instead of picking a fight.

He was brought back to his senses as the other boy began shaking. He tightened his grip, now feeling how slim Draco really was. Harry could feel his ribs through his clothing. “It wasn’t real, Draco… It wasn’t real. None of that was real. He’s gone… he’s gone… You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe. Shh… It’s okay…” Harry kept talking to him as Draco buried his head in his knees, slightly muffling his sobs. Harry just held him tight, allowing him to break, a comforting hand on his other side.

Once again, he thought about how odd this was. But at the same time, he also recognized that he didn’t care anymore. Whatever had been their old relationship, the war had turned it upside down. It had flicked a switch in him, the events, the stress, the reality of what his parents had instilled in him, the torture, the loss… all of it. It had been hard on him, too. After all, they were _all_ only children. All very young. Especially when this started, when they were only 14. Now, at 18, Draco was a shell of the confident, arrogant boy Harry had known. Who he’d possibly been taught to be. But whatever he had been, he wasn’t that now. And Harry desperately wanted him to stop crying… to take this pain he was feeling and… and… he didn’t know. But he knew that on top of whatever suffering was going-on post-war… there was something else. It had triggered something else. Possibly something that had been dormant…

Harry brought his hand to Draco’s back, rubbing slow, gentle circles into the tense muscles. Draco shuddered, but did not object, as he had to Harry’s arm around him. Harry wondered if Draco even realized who was with him right now. Wondered if he thought it was Blaise, or Theo, or anyone but him. It didn’t seem to matter though, because Draco was starting to calm down. He was still shaking and jolting, but his sobs had subsided to mere tears.

Outside the curtains, the boys sat on the beds surrounding Draco’s. The adrenaline surge had kept them awake, unable to fall back asleep right away. They’d sat in small groups, lost in their own thoughts. No one spoke in the stunned silence, but the looks on their faces told that they were all thinking the same thing. It was only then that the majority of them had realized how much pain Draco was really in, especially when they heard him break down. They were all uncomfortable and shaken, hardly able to believe that that terrified, pained sound could come out of Draco… the boy they’d all thought to have it all. Maybe as a child… but during the last few years… no one really knew. But here he was, in pain and breaking down. None of them had heard anyone else in near as much mental pain… aside from Harry. They sat watching the shadows behind the curtains, listening to Harry’s incoherent voice through Draco’s cries, and praying for the heart-wrenching sobs to cease.

Once they did, Ron stood, whispering that he was going to check on the two of them. He slid the curtains apart gently, stepping halfway inside. He glanced over the scene before him, concerned. Harry had his arm around Draco, who was trembling. ‘Is he okay?’ Ron mouthed.

Harry shook his head. He looked back at Draco, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘Are you okay?’

Harry shrugged. As Ron turned to leave, Draco’s breathing shuddered. He turned back to see the boy he’d always loathed being comforted by his best mate… it was jarring. All of it. “It’s okay,” Harry whispered to the blond. “You’re safe… breathe, Draco…”

Ron gestured to Harry, who took what he was asking as, ‘Are you staying?’ He nodded back.

Ron smiled sadly, turning his back and leaving them alone once more. He walked back out to the other boys, who looked at him expectantly.

“So?” Dean said.

Ron sighed. “Harry’s gunna stay with him a bit longer.”

“Is he okay? I mean… that was…” Theo trailed off.

“No. Well, overall, no. But right now, yes. I think he’s okay right now.”

“That was…”

“Scary?” Dean finished for Ernie, who nodded. “That’s what being tortured sounds like.”

“Huh?” Ron looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“I was imprisoned in their cellar, remember? Because of the snatchers?”

“Right.”

Dean gulped, looking back at the shadows behind the curtain. “I’ve heard that before.”

Blaise raised his eyebrows, standing now, too. “You heard him… you heard Voldemort torture him?”

Dean nodded. “All the time. Whenever something went wrong or didn’t go as planned… when Ron, Harry, and Hermione escaped… _literally_ all the time.”

Blaise stared at him, horrified. “Oh, _Merlin…_ ”

Dean nodded. “I could hear him from the upper floors, even though I was in the cellar, with Luna. She heard, too. I’m glad Harry was able to wake him up. I think he knew what was happening, too.”

“But how?” Ron questioned.

“I don’t know,” shrugged Dean. “Maybe because he’s had it put on him? I’m not sure.”

Ron nodded solemnly. “Maybe. I, er… I think we should all head to bed.”

There was a unanimous agreement among them, and they all headed back to their beds, drawing their curtains.

By this point, Draco was mostly recovered. He was breathing almost normally again, and the trembling had mostly subsided. He leaned back against the wall, raising his head, though his eyes were closed. Harry watched him as he swiped at his eyes, sniffling, his face red, blotchy, and tear streaked. His chest tightened at the sight. Without looking at him, Draco spoke. “You can leave… you should get back to bed…”

“Are you going to be okay?” Draco nodded, and he stood to leave. “Okay.”

“Harry?”

He turned back to face the blond, who’s face showed poorly concealed shock. “Yeah?”

Draco’s tired eyes were focused on his own. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“But you, er… you never saw that, yeah?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Yeah.” His stare lingered for a moment longer, before he pushed through the curtains and out of sight.

Draco shook his head at himself, then rested it against the wall. It had to be Harry Potter that came in, didn’t it? Of all people… He chuckled lowly to himself, swiping at his eyes again. Blaise he would have expected… he’d had an eye on him recently. Even Theo. But not Harry. That was the last person he was expecting to see when he finally looked at the person who’d comforted him… He wasn’t one to accept comfort, often. Especially not when he felt he didn’t deserve it. And now he’d shown him weakness, vulnerability… to the one person he’d thought would never be the one to be there for him. Of course, though, it _was_ just a nightmare. That’s all. Surely, he’d forget about it. Surely, he wouldn’t catch on to the million other things going on… Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. So yes, I know that Dean was caught by the snatchers at the same time as Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but I am writing it as if he was captured around the same time as Luna. Just to clear that up. Anyways, let me know what you think! Until next time! -Emma :)


	7. Mornings of Confusion and Evenings of Quidditch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron wakes Harry early the next day, much to his dismay, to discuss the previous night's events. Gryffindor has quidditch trials that night, along with Slytherin.

Harry awoke suddenly to the shaking of his arm, a dark figure in his dream quickly receding into the depths of his subconscious. He blinked up at a blurry silhouette, the outline of which he could barely see against the darkness of his curtains.

“Come on, Harry,” it urged. “Get up.”

He rubbed his eyes, reaching for his glasses. Ron’s freckled face came into focus before him. “It’s barely light out,” he hissed. “Why?”

He thought he saw Ron roll his eyes, but couldn’t be sure. “Because I want to talk to you about what happened last night.”

Harry’s heart lurched, thudding twice as fast in his chest. _Why did he want to talk about it? What did he want to know?_ “But this early?”

He was sure Ron rolled his eyes that time. “It’s only half an hour earlier than normal.”

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

“Oh well.”

The two headed to the showers, towels around their waists as sunlight dimly lit the room from around the side of the castle. Ron pulled the door open and they stepped through, letting the door shut softly behind them. Harry looked up and stopped in his tracks. Draco had been coming towards them from the showers, hair plastered to his face, water droplets running down it. He stopped, too, as did Ron. The three boys stared at each other for a moment, before Harry smiled at him. Draco nodded back, before continuing his walk back to his bed. Harry watched with curious eyes, but was taken aback by the spot of blood half concealed by where his arm pressed the towel to his hipbone. Harry stared quizzically at the closed door until Ron touched his arm.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, mate?”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Nevermind.” Harry walked into the stall Draco had just occupied, closed the stall door behind him, then shoved the towel under it, away from the spray. He turned the shower on, twisting the knob until it was sure to be scalding. He closed his eyes with his head down, letting the heat wash over him, run into his eyes, and let the steam rise around him. His head shot up, gagging at the smell of blood. He whipped his head around, searching for it, but could not see while his glasses lay outside the door with his towel. _Why is he bleeding?_ Harry shouted at himself, inwardly. _Why, every time I shower, am I smelling his blood?_ He washed quickly, nausea coming over him at the smell and its implications. He hurried out of the bathroom while Ron hummed to himself, snapping his curtains shut.

*

Harry and Ron took their seats in the Great Hall while there was barely anyone there. Draco sat alone at the Slytherin table, a few Hufflepuffs were eating cereal at their table, and Ned and Faith sat together down the other end of the Gryffindor table, chatting over their pancakes. McGonagall gave Harry a questioning look as she talked to Professor Flitwick, and glanced over at Draco with the same one. Harry followed her gaze, momentarily wondering why he was up so early, especially after the events of the previous night. The thought quickly left, however, as Harry remember the troubles the other boy had with sleeping.

Harry loaded some eggs onto his plate as Ron poured them both some juice. He handed Harry his goblet as he spoke. “So what exactly happened last night?”

Harry took a swig, then set the goblet down in front of him. “Draco was having a nightmare… remembering being tortured. That’s why he was screaming like that.”

“I knew that part… Dean told me.”

Harry nodded. “So then what do you want to know?”

“How did you get him to calm down? He was practically hysterical.”

“The real trouble was waking him up. I tried to shake him awake but I guess he thought I was Him… he kept pulling away from me. I had to pin his arms down so I could talk without him thrashing.”

“Merlin, Harry…”

“I know. When he finally woke up, he jumped back and sat against the wall, kinda like he was when you came in. I don’t think he ever realized that you did, by the way. But he was still super out of it then, staring ahead. Then he just started crying and I… I dunno, Ron. It was scary. I honestly don’t even think he realized that I was there at first. I think he was too lost to recognize it was me. He pushed me away the first time I put my arm around him and kept telling me he was fine… But I dunno… eventually he let me. It was all happening at once and it was confusing…”

“I don’t know if he knew it was you or not, at first. But he’s definitely not fine, judging on what happened. Frankly, I’m not sure if he cared that it was you once he found out. It wasn’t really characteristic of him. But war… I guess.”

Harry shrugged. “Honestly, Ron, I have no idea. It wasn’t something I expected from myself either… I just… I can’t stand to see anyone in pain, you know that. And especially after the war, and after how he was living and used by Voldemort, and Crabbe dying and I just _couldn’t._ I don’t know how to make you understand.”

Ron smiled. “You don’t have to. I think I kinda get it. I mean, I don’t think everyone should go after him. He was nasty as a kid but he’s different now. We are _all_ different now.”

“Clearly.” Both boys heads whipped to the side as Hermione slid in beside Ron, dropping her bag on the seat. “Before, you two _never_ would’ve got up this early.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Very funny.”

“Funny because it’s true,” she said, spreading jam on a piece of toast. “But in all seriousness, why are you two up so early?”

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then Harry glanced over his shoulder at Draco, then back to Hermione with a sigh. “Draco was screaming his head off in the middle of the night and woke us all up.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A nightmare, I presume?”

“Yeah. And so I went to try and wake him up, but when he did he, er… he sorta broke down.”

“Sorta?” Ron whispered, leaning closer. “I never thought I’d hear that sound come out of a lot of people, let alone Malfoy.”

Hermione eyed Harry. “So what did you do?”

“I tried to calm him down, of course. It took a while, but it worked eventually.” Hermione nodded, chuckling to herself as she finished her toast. “What?”

“Nothing, Harry.”

He scowled at her, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his messages. ‘ _Hey’_

The reply came a moment later, causing both Ron and Hermione to look at him questioningly. ‘Hi.’

He shrugged them off as he typed back. _‘How was your night last night?’_

‘Fine. U?’

_‘It was alright, but I was upset.’_

Instantly, Draco replied. ‘Why?’

Harry bit his lip, wondering how to phrase this _. ‘I think someone I know is having a hard time, but they’re hiding it. Idk what to do.’_

A few moments passed and Harry chatted with Ron and Hermione, one of Ron’s jokes causing him to almost choke on his eggs. Finally, his screen lit up and he snatched it out of their view to read it. ‘Heh… I’m not really a great person to ask about that. But I think some people just don’t want to be bothered or bother anyone else.’

Harry frowned, thumbs flying over the keys. _‘But they aren’t bothering me. I want to talk to them. Maybe try to help.’_

‘They might not see it that way.’

_‘I guess. It’s just upsetting to me… a little unnerving really. Not that it’s their fault, I just hate seeing them like that.’_

‘You sound like a good friend.’ 

_‘I guess. Maybe you’ll find out if we keep talking.’_

_‘_ Perhaps.’

_‘U sure ur night was okay? The way u said it doesnt seem like it’_

‘Nothing major. A little rough. But when isn’t it.’ 

_‘Do you want to talk about it?’_

_  
‘_ Sorry, gotta go to class now. Talk to you later.’

Harry frowned as he shut off his phone, replacing it in his pocket. Draco had dodged the question. He knew that he’d let him comfort him last night, but he wasn’t in his right mind then. Something didn’t seem right with him though, and more than just the effects of the war. Even _before_ there was something. Harry couldn’t shake the thought of the blood from his head. Or how he stayed almost completely to himself. How he was late to class and didn’t sleep. Of course, people struggle with PTSD differently. Harry’s struggles were different then say Hermione’s, or Neville’s. He had no idea what really happened to Draco over the last few years, and what the turmoil could have triggered… but he was determined to find out. Blaise was worried about him, and he had known him longer. Something was wrong.

*

Harry and Ron were summoned by Ginny after classes that day. They had bolted upstairs after their final class and changed from their robes into their scarlet and gold quidditch uniforms. She had been let in by Hermione and was startling the two boys within two minutes.

Ron threw the door open as Harry did up his fly and he was still fiddling with his helmet. Ginny rolled her eyes at the pair, turning and walking back down the stairs. They quickly caught up to her, pushing past Blaise, Pansy, and Draco on their way out. Briefly, Harry’s eyes met Draco’s, before the other boy tore his gaze away.

The three practically ran across the field to the pitch, where Harry thrust the key into the lock on the broom-shed and let them in. They retrieved their brooms (after Harry and Ron’s were sent up by Mrs. Weasley with their uniforms) and headed out onto the pitch.

Ginny smiled at them. “So? Ready for another season of ass-kicking?”

“You bet,” Harry grinned. “Think we’ll get many new players?”

Ron shook his head. “Nah. Don’t think the decision will be very hard for you this year, Harry.”

Ron was right. After another twenty minutes, they had just enough to fill the team circled around them. Ron would keep his position as keeper; Ginny, Dean Thomas, and Demelza as chasers; and Jimmy Peakes and their only new student, second-year Maya Lyle, as beaters. Everyone but Maya were clad in their uniforms, so Harry instructed Ginny to take her back to the changerooms and get her one. She also didn’t have a broom, and so would need to borrow one of the school brooms.

As the two girls walked away, Harry turned to the rest of the team. “Alright everyone, welcome back to another year of Quidditch! I sure missed it last year and am happier than ever to be back on the pitch. Ginny will be my assistant captain this year, and will likely take over for me once I graduate. Does anyone have any questions?”

Jimmy raised his hand and Harry nodded at him. “What days will we be practicing this year?”

“I’m not quite sure yet, but I will let you all know when I figure it out. After practice I’ll need all of your phone numbers and emails.”

Demelza coughed. “Uh… I haven’t quite figured out how to use my phone yet. It’s a pretty new concept to a lot of us.”

Harry smiled. “Don’t worry. Dean and I can help you out with that.”

“Personally,” Dean piped up. “I think it was brilliant for McGonagall to find a way for us to use the technology at school. Especially with our new Hogwarts email addresses. I think it will be a lot easier.”

“I agree,” said Ron. “She was able to email all of the eighth-year prefects our new round schedules right away!”

Demelza smiled. “Okay. Thanks guys… I feel better now.”

Harry grinned. “Alright now, who’s ready to get started on our first practice, I guess, since we don’t need to do trials. Ginny and I have been working on some new drills and plays for this season, and I have a really good feeling about them.”

Ron stepped over his broom and pushed off, hovering in the air. “Sounds good. Let’s go!”

Ginny and Maya came running out of the changerooms, both taking a long stride and taking off into the air with the others. Harry laughed, released the balls, then followed his team up into the air. He looked around, taking in the team zooming laps around him, warming up. Maya was a fair flyer, although she would definitely need some training to be a beater. She had more of the build of a chaser or a seeker. Harry smiled, wondering if she would take over for him next year.

As he turned back the other way, a group of people on the ground caught his eye. The Slytherin quidditch team, in their green and silver uniforms, were in a circle around their captain, Urquhart. Surrounding him was Vaisey, Daphne Greengrass, Goyle, Blaise, Draco, and a student that Harry didn’t recognise. Harry watched them as they dispersed, some taking off into the air. Draco didn’t have his usual cockiness and confidence about him when it came to quidditch, as he stood watching his teammates, broom held limp in his hand. As Harry continued to watch, he broke into a run, then leaped onto his broom and took off. He didn’t seem as steady as he used to, but other than that, all seemed normal.

Harry tore his gaze away and refocused onto his own team. Ginny was instructing the chasers on a new drill, while Jimmy was showing Maya how to properly swing her bat. Harry decided to circle above them and practice some rolls and dives as he searched for the snitch. He practiced corkscrews, vertical twists, dives, and finally, a looping dive that allowed him to quickly change directions, as if folding on an axis and heading back the way he had come after turning upside down. In his head he called it a looping dive, as he wasn’t quite sure what the real thing was called.

Near the end of the practice, Harry coasted over to where Urquhart was resting on the ground observing his team. He eyed Harry as he approached but did not act hostile. Harry held his hand out after landing, which Urquhart took. “Welcome back,” Harry said with a grin.

“Likewise.”

“Would you like to scrimmage? Neither of our teams seem to be doing trials and we still have another thirty minutes.”

Urquhart glanced to the sky, then back at Harry. “Yeah, sure.” He turned back to his team. “Oi! All of you, down here! We’re scrimmaging Gryffindor!”

Harry watched as they all headed down towards them. Daphne gave him a smile, as did Blaise, while Goyle scowled. Draco pulled out of a spinning dive upside-down to look at Harry momentarily, a questioning look in his eyes. Harry nodded at them before returning to instruct his own team. He glided to where he was at the same level as Hermione and Seamus in the stands. “Can you guys collect the balls from the chasers and beaters then re-release them? We are gunna scrimmage Slytherin.”

“What about the snitch?” Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. “I still haven’t found it. Draco and I will have to use the one that’s still out there.”

“You mean this one?” Harry glanced back over his shoulder to where the blond held the snitch between his fingers. “It came over my way. Thought you’d like it back.”

He handed it to Harry, his fingertips brushing Harry’s palm. Harry sucked in a breath through his nose, then tried to hide it by clearing his throat. “Thanks.”

Draco nodded back, then turned to fly back to his team. He turned and called over his shoulder. “I might have to give it back to you a second time after this match!”

“You wish!” Harry called back, handing the snitch to Seamus. He headed down to the centre of the pitch to start the match.

Both teams got in their positions. Harry rose above the rest of them, Draco across from him, waiting for Hermione to yell ‘go’ at Seamus. Once she did, and he released the balls, the Slytherin chasers were off to the races, the Gryffindor chasers blocking them to the best of their abilities. Ron blocked a quick shot, knocking the quaffle to Demelza, who passed it to Dean, who passed it to Ginny. Daphne quickly won it back after Goyle sent a bludger Ginny’s way, and Daphne dropped it to Blaise beneath her. Jimmy nodded at Maya, who held the bat in a shaking hand, swung the incoming bludger, and knocked it straight at Blaise, who tucked up and rolled, but lost the quaffle, dropping it to Dean. Harry smiled as he watched, nodding at Maya’s quick learning from Jimmy. Dean sped through the Slytherin chasers and tossed the quaffle to Ginny, who tucked it in the left hoop. Hermione and Seamus cheered.

He and Draco circled each other above the play, waiting for a glimmer of gold to catch their eye. No sooner had Harry thought that, however, than he saw a gold streak near the Gryffindor goalposts. A blur of gold and silver nearby told him that Draco had also seen the snitch and Harry leaned forwards, accelerating until the two were neck-in-neck, both reaching for the golden orb. But it’s fluttering wings deceived them and it cut back underneath the two seekers, heading the other way. Harry did the looping dive that he had been practicing, following the snitch. Draco attempted to copy him, but Harry heard him yelp behind him. He turned to see Draco hanging off of his broom, where he had slid off trying to flip upside-down, his footing having been misplaced. Harry floated closely underneath him, allowing the blond to adjust his hands and push off of Harry’s broom with one foot back onto his own.

“Thanks,” he said sheepishly. His cheeks were flushed, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was from the wind or embarrassment. Harry nodded at him and they were back to circling, having lost the snitch.

Within a few minutes, they were racing again, diving and swerving through the beams of the stadium. Side by side they stretched to close their fingers around the snitch and finally, Harry emerged with it in his grasp. His team cheered, as did Ron and Hermione as he smiled at them from afar. Ginny and Dean flew over, clapped him on the back. Dean nodded at Draco, who returned the gesture, uncomfortably.

*

When they returned to the dorms, the quidditch players and spectators found that food had been sent to the dorm for them to eat. Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Daphne, and Draco tucked in. Daphne only grabbed her food and headed upstairs, Blaise had left to take a shower, and Goyle, to none of their dismay, had seemingly vanished. Harry, Ron, and Dean, still in their quidditch sweaters, sat down on one couch to eat. Seamus sat between Dean’s knees on the floor, while Hermione took a seat beside Draco on the other.

They ate in relative silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Eventually, Harry spoke up, directing his comment at the silent Slytherin. “Good game.”

“Thanks,” Draco replied. He looked up, potatoes loaded onto his fork, then he looked down again. “I, er… I wasn’t going to play this year, originally,” he admitted.

Ron looked puzzled. “Then why did you?”

Draco swallowed his potatoes. “Urquhart needed a seeker. He asked me to come back because no one wanted all of the attention on them because of Slytherin’s bad wrap.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Then why would you agree?”

Draco raised an eyebrow with a breathy, humourless laugh, looking Harry in the eyes. “Are you kidding? I already have it.”

Hermione side-eyed him, then looked at Harry and Ron. They were all thinking the same thing in the silence. The boy was miserable.

Harry cleared his throat, changing the course of the discussion. “Did you do much flying over the summer?”

Draco shook his head, pushing food around on his plate. “No. I mostly stayed inside with my mother.”

“I never did thank her,” Harry said quietly. “For saving me. I feel bad.”

Draco gave him a look, a mixture of amusement and something Harry couldn’t place. “You don’t have to thank her. She knows.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, open mouthed. The he nodded curtly, eyes boring a hole in his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Let me know your thoughts. The next chapter is coming soon. Until next time! -Emma :)


	8. Quills, Wands, and Explosions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mishap in transfiguration leads to realisations of trauma and uncomfortable conversations.

Harry woke to the slamming of the door the next Friday morning. He sat up as the door reopened, someone called an apology and the door shut once more. He rubbed his eyes, put on his glasses and blinked the remaining blurriness away. Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed, throwing his blankets to the side and winced at the coolness of the floor. It was only the middle of September, but the mornings were already beginning to become colder. Grabbing today’s clothes from his trunk, he began changing, listening to the commotion outside his curtains. A moment later he pulled them open, surveying the room.

Ron was clearly in the shower, judging by his clothes and bag sitting on his bed. Seamus tied his shoes, immersed in conversation with Terry beside him. Draco’s bed was made, curtains pulled back, bag gone. Blaise, however, stood across from Harry, pulling his shirt over his head. He glanced up at the Gryffindor and smiled. “Morning, Harry.”

“Morning.”

“Hey, uh… how’ve you been doing?”

He shrugged, wrinkling his nose. “Some days are better than others.”

“You have to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too.”

“Sorry? What d’ya mean?”

Harry’s gaze followed Blaise’s as it traveled to Draco’s empty bed and back. “No one is your responsibility but yourself. You need to make sure that _you_ are coping. That’s all. I’ll see you in class.”

Harry only nodded as the other boy left, staring at the empty doorway. “Okay.” He shook his head to clear the thought, then turned and slipped on his tie. A fist pounding on the door reached his ears and he sauntered over to it, poking his head out.

“Hurry up.”

“Jesus, Hermione! Could’ve said good morning. Ron’s in the shower.”

She made a face. “Tell Ronald to hurry up then. Meet me in the Great Hall in five minutes.”

“Okay fine, geez.” He shut the door, chuckling as he returned to his bed.

Ron emerged from the bathroom and strode towards him, holding his towel on. “Morning, mate.” He let the towel fall as he picked through his clothes to find his boxers. Harry raised a brow. “What? I’m too lazy to draw the curtains again and then put them back.”

Harry chuckled. “Whatever you say. Hurry up, Hermione wants to actually have breakfast with us today instead of us running late.”

“Is that why you didn’t shower?”

“I showed last night after practice, thank you very much!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I did!”

Ron chuckled, tying his tie. “Okay, okay! Let’s go.”

“You haven’t tied your shoes.”

Ron threw his bag over his shoulder. “You think Hermione will take that as an excuse?”

*

Transfiguration was nosier than usual that day, the seventh and eighth years mingling, chatting, and laughing amongst themselves while they worked on a new spell. They’d done similar work before in previous years and were now turning their quills into small animals.

Beside him, Hermione was grinning at a fluffy guinea pig, revealing that she’d always wanted one as a kid. She rambled on, and Harry half-listened, attempting to turn his quill into, well, anything. At first all he managed was a worm, and Hermione grimaced, picking up the limp body in between her fingers. Even Ron had turned around and stuck his tongue out in disgust. Harry cursed under his breath, took the worm from Hermione and tried again. He closed his eyes, focused on the wand movement, then opened them to see a small, light grey bird. It turned its small beak up at him, eyes taking him in with curiosity. He smiled, leaning back in his chair to observe it.

“Draco?”

The call had been quiet, but Harry had still picked it up from across the aisle. He glanced over to see Pansy tugging on Draco’s shoulder, the opposite one which was occupied by a tiny hamster. His gaze was focused on Harry’s desk and he scrunched his eyebrows, looking between Draco and the small bird. His silver eyes were openly staring, transfixed on the twittering creature. He snapped his fingers, but the other boy didn’t look up. His breathing was slightly heavier—Harry could see his chest rising and falling.

Pansy was trying to draw his attention away, but when it didn’t work, she glanced up at Harry and shrugged. “It’s the bird, I think. But I don’t know why.”

Harry’s eyes widened with realization. The bird looked almost exactly like the ones that used to be in the cage upstairs. The one by the room of requirement. The one which was now empty… Harry turned abruptly to his desk, closed his eyes and redid the spell. When he opened them again, a caterpillar inched towards Hermione. He turned back to his left. Draco was blinking furiously, looking at his desk with Pansy’s hand on his shoulder.

A bang erupted from the front of the room, reverberating off of the walls as splinters of wood flew into the air, sparks and miscellaneous debris following it. Immediately, Harry and many of his classmates dropped under their desks. His breathing was harsh, ears ringing, as he stared around for the source, wand clutched tightly in his hand. His head whipped back and forth, searching for the threat. Hermione was clutching his arm, Ron in front of him, eyes blown wide. _He was back in the battle._ _Hexes and curses flying every which way, explosions, people being thrown everywhere… blood. Pain. Hurt. Loss._

“I’m sorry.” His attention fled to the front of the room, taking in the splintered desk, the smoking quill. The dark-skinned boy on the floor next to it, hands over his ears, tense. “I’m so sorry!” Seamus cried, bottom lip trembling as he stared out over all of the crouched students, and back at McGonagall, who had also dropped to the floor. “I… I didn’t mean to scare anyone… I…”

Harry glanced around him, heart still beating out of his chest. Behind him, Ginny crouched under her desk, wand drawn, breathing steady but eyes full of terror. Luna crouched next to her, hair in her eyes because of her downcast gaze. Neville was beside Ron, shaking his head as he rose back to his seat. Hannah, Ernie, Tony, Michael, Terry, and Lavender all looked to be in a similar position.

Across the aisle from him, Draco was crouching, ashen faced and staring between Dean and Luna, then the splintered desk. He was breathing heavily, wand hand shaking as he held it out in front of him. Pansy was leaned over him, mumbling. “Get up, it’s okay. It wasn’t an attack. You’re fine…” He stayed put.

Then Hermione was tugging on his sleeve, telling him it was only an accident, sounding like she was more trying to convince herself than him. Ginny sat up straight behind him, staring back at Ron through Harry’s desk legs. The rest of the class was staring at them, mouths gaping. Harry opened his mouth to speak and his voice came out raspy. “I’m sorry—we—the war—” He looked back to the front and his face softened. “Seamus…”

His shoulders were shaking with sobs. “I’m so—so sorry! I’m sorry, Prof—professor. I’m sorry.” He turned on his heel, racing from the room, a hand pressed to his mouth to stifle the sounds. It didn’t work. The class watched as Dean, still looking shaken, tailed after him and out into the hall, where Seamus was adamantly breaking-down.

McGonagall rose from behind her desk slowly, shaken by the sudden explosion. She looked out over the room, to a third of her mixed-year class under their desks. She was sure that they too had just relived their own traumas from the war in the span of one minute. She sighed sadly, then addressed the rest of her class who had not reacted so severely as the rest took their seats. “I want to remind you all, that some of your classmates are really struggling with the events they witnessed and went through in the war. And for some, even for a few years prior to that. This may happen sometimes… reactions like this. And to those of you who may be struggling, and who just dropped like I did… you are safe. This is a safe place for you, and no harm shall come to you here. I am sincerely sorry for what you have all had to go through. As for class, we will take a short break. If you need to leave, that is okay. You are dismissed. I hope you are okay, and if you are not, I, as well as all of the other teachers and your _classmates_ are here for you.” She stared pointedly around the room; hands clasped in front of her. “We shall resume in fifteen minutes.”

Harry glanced around the room as McGonagall retreated to her quarters and the rest of the class slowly resumed conversation. He watched as Draco rose back to his seat, hair falling into his face. Blaise came around to his side and crouched beside him, but Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying. Pansy had a hand on his back. “I’m fine, Blaise,” he said. He wasn’t looking at him.

Behind him, Ginny was checking on Luna, who was shaking a little. Harry swallowed hard. Luna had always been so strong, and nothing seemed to rattle her. But then he heard her whispering to Ginny about how she heard stuff like that a lot, sometimes worse, like screaming, while she was imprisoned in the Malfoy’s cellar.

Harry and Hermione leaned against each other as Ron held her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. He looked rather pale before, but his colour was beginning to come back as he talked to Neville. He was only mumbling back to Ron as he sat with his head in his hands, elbows on Hermione’s desk. 

Chair legs scraped across the floor and everyone’s eyes turned to look at Draco, who marched over to Luna and Ginny, fiddling with the Slytherin ring he wore on his right hand. Both girls stared up at him, confusion evident on their faces. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before the words came tumbling out. “Luna, I’m so sorry about everything that happened at the manor. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it. I’m—I’m so sorry.” His breathing still hadn’t calmed—it actually seemed to be getting harsher.

“It’s okay.”

“I—I wish I could’ve done something… I was a coward.”

“You _did_ do something though.”

“I was a coward.”

“You were _scared._ ”

“I…” He stood there, slack-jawed, searching her eyes frantically. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He turned abruptly and hurried from the room.

Harry made to stand, but Blaise waved him off. He jogged after him. “Draco!”

Harry sighed, turning back to the front and started as he saw that McGonagall stood at the top of the stairs, blinking at Blaise’s retreating figure. She looked down, shook her head sadly, then made her way back to the front of the class.

After the class had resumed for a few minutes and they were back to working with tiny animals, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, meeting blue eyes. “Hey, you all right, Luna?” He felt Hermione turn around as well.

Luna looked at the pair of them, then nodded. “Yes, I’m alright. Was just a bit startled is all. I wanted to tell you about Draco.”

“Huh?”

“I see that you’re getting closer with him Harry, and I just wanted to tell you something.”

Feeling heat rising in his face he licked his lips, then said, “Okay, er… what is it?”

“He did try to help me when I was in the Manor. He would bring me extra food and heal my wounds when he could. But they did awful things to him there, too. I could hear him scream when they tortured him. It was quite awful… I don’t blame him for being scared.”

“How did you know it was him screaming…?”

“Well, one day Voldemort got very angry… I think he suspected he was trying to help me. He used the curse on Draco in front of me and I realized it was the same scream I’d been hearing for months. After that I always knew when they were using it on him. You could hear him, even when he was on the upper levels. His Mother, too. She was never cruel to me, but some of them were to her. I suppose she wasn’t mean enough for them.”

Harry’s mouth had gone dry. “Thanks for telling me, Luna. That, uh… that’s important to know.”

She nodded at him. “I hope he’s okay.”

“Me, too.”

More scraping chair legs pulled Harry’s attention away from Luna. Blaise had pulled up a chair beside him and was sitting with his stomach against the back. Harry bit his lip. “Is he okay?”

Blaise blew air into his cheeks, then let it out. He looked up at Harry. “No. But he wouldn’t talk to me about it. Pushed me off when I got close enough to grab his wrist.”

Harry frowned. “Did that to me too, the other night. At first at least.”

“Yeah. It’s not that unusual. Always tried to hold everything back, even when we knew he was upset. Pansy or I would check on him and he’d just push us away. Anyways… Are you okay, Harry?”

“Yeah.” At Blaise’s expectant look he continued. “Honestly. I was a bit rattled at first, but I’m alright. Why do you keep checking on me?”

Blaise smiled. “Someone has to. Besides, you’re looking out for my best mate.”

“Where is he now?”

“Said he was going back to the dorm. Probably won’t come to dinner tonight so I’ll bring him some.”

Harry nodded, eyes staring into his lap as he shook his head. “Something doesn’t seem right with him, Blaise.”

“That’s because it’s not. But I don’t know exactly what. He’s always been one to hide how he feels. Drilled into him, I guess. That or he’s scared.”

“Or both?”

“Or both.”

“Well, you’ll let me know if you find anything out, right? I want to be there for him, too.”

Blaise smiled. “Of course. Thanks for helping, Harry.” He held out his hand.

Harry shook it. “Of course.”

*

Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the common room at the same time that Blaise hit the bottom stair. He looked at Harry, who was headed towards him. “He’s upstairs. Just brought him some food.”

Harry nodded, heading up the way Blaise had just come from. He pushed the door open gently, earning a startled look from Draco. Harry only smiled slightly at the other boy, who was perched on the end of his bed, hands clasped together. Harry strode over to his trunk, knelt in front of it and shoved the lid open. He rifled around inside of it momentarily before grinning and rising back to his feet. He turned to Draco, who looked up at the object in Harry’s hand with astonishment.

Draco took his wand from Harry’s outstretched hand and whispered, “Thank you.”

“I fought him with your wand, Draco.”

“You… what?”

“My wand was broken, that’s why I took yours. I fought him with it. But my wand is fixed now, and I just remembered that I have yours today when I saw that you still had your mother’s. I thought you’d like it back.”

A small smiled graced Draco’s lips as he flicked his wand, light dancing from the tip. “I appreciate it.”

Harry grinned. “Are you sending that one back to your mother, then?” He nodded. “Perfect. Can you send this with it?”

Draco tentatively took the parchment from Harry’s hand and read the note, then looked back up at him. “You… you don’t have to thank her, Harry. It’s the least she could do.”

“I was saved by a mother’s love, three times. First by my mum, from Voldemort. Second, by Molly Weasley, from loneliness and neglect. And third, by your Mother… because of her love for you. She checked my pulse in the forest, and when she found out I was alive, she asked if you were alive, and if you were in the castle. When I said yes, she lied to Voldemort. It’s the only reason I’m here.”

“I’m only here because you saved me from the…” He gulped, closing his eyes. “From the Fiendfyre.”

“I couldn’t leave you there.”

“You should’ve.”

“Why?”

“Forget it.”

“Draco—”

“I don’t want to talk about!” Draco snapped, glaring up at Harry, who took a step back.

“Okay. I understand.”

Draco’s face softened and he dropped his gaze. “Just go.” Harry nodded, leaving the room wordlessly, and leaving Draco alone with a tightness in his chest and throat that he couldn’t get to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry this chapter took a while. Let me know your thoughts! Until next time, which will hopefully be soon. -Emma :)


	9. Nightmares, Card Games, and Confusing Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is awake while Ron comforts Harry after a nightmare. The next morning, Harry teaches some friends to play 31, and later, has a text conversation with Draco about the previous night.

Draco’s eyes scanned the pages with ease, the print blurring together as the characters appeared inside his head. They moved as if in a film, actions and dialogue creating one cohesive unit. A man and a woman were talking, strolling down a path in the middle of the night, only sparse streetlamps illuminating their faces. Their conversation was hushed, their faces barely visible. The woman brushed a piece of hair out of her face, giving the dark-haired man a stern look. He took a step back, grinning in spite of her serious tone. When she stepped towards him, he did not move, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Fred,” the woman said—cried. “Fred!”

The characters began floating away, into the distance beyond Draco’s reach. It wasn’t the woman who had been calling out.

“NO!”

The dorm room appeared before him once again and he blinked into the darkness, rubbed his eyes. A few of the boys were shuffling around him, and although his curtains were open, he couldn’t see what was happening in the absence of the normal moonlight streaming in the window. “ _Lumos.”_ Harry’s curtains were open, and the boy was clearly having a nightmare. He had been calling out for Fred, who had been like a brother to him. Draco knew that—he had gone to the funeral. Not that anyone remembered that.

Seamus and Justin were standing by his bed, and Dean was waking Ron by the looks of it. Draco watched with curious eyes as Ron emerged from his curtains, concern etched into the lines of his face.

Harry was calling out again, flinching in his sleep. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Draco’s chest tightened as he put his book down, straightening up against his headboard. As Ron got closer, he whispered, “ _Lumos Maxima_ ,” and sent it towards Harry so Ron could see him. He knew Ron was sitting on the edge of the boy’s bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off of Harry.

Harry grimaced as Ron laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Harry. Wake up.” He shook him gently. “Harry.”

Green eyes flew open and he pushed himself upright, tears already streaming down his face. “I’m sorry,” he gulped. “I’m so sorry, Ron.”

Ron pulled him into his arms. “It’s okay, mate. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Please forgive me! I never wanted any of this!”

Ron closed his eyes, the fact that he had no idea what to do about this anymore evident in his expression. “I know.”

“G—George hates me,” he sobbed. “Why are you still my friend when I-I’m the, the reason your brother’s dead?”

Ron held him tighter, face stony. “It wasn’t your fault, Harry. You know that.”

Harry shook his head, which was buried in Ron’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed Harry’s back. “Shh. You’re okay.”

Harry’s breathing shuddered as he attempted to calm himself and Draco felt a pang in his chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Harry saved so many lives… how could he possibly think any of this was his fault. He hadn’t asked for this, just as Draco hadn’t asked to be on the wrong side of the War. Besides, he was there when Fred died. He was killed in an explosion that could’ve just as easily killed anyone else. How was that Harry’s fault?

The pang turned into an ache. A longing. He didn’t want Harry to feel like this. He had saved his life more than once. He didn’t deserve to feel this way. He didn’t understand why Harry felt guilty. Why he kept apologizing to Ron, and everyone else for that matter. For everything. As if it was his fault that he was a pawn in a war, being used from such a young age. They were _children_. It wasn’t fair.

Harry was mostly quiet now—only sniffles escaped him every now and then. Ron was mumbling to him, but the sound didn’t travel as far as it had before. A smile tugged at the blond’s lips, glad that Harry had such a good friend. He picked his book back up, scanning the lines, but they didn’t really sink in. His mind was on Harry and nothing seemed to be able to pull it away. He was talking with Ron in hushed voices and didn’t seem so distraught anymore. The thickness of tears in his voice had left and it now held the grogginess of sleep. He chuckled and Draco smiled in spite of himself, hiding his face behind the pages. After fighting it off his face he lowered the book slightly, eyes watching over the top of the old paperback. Ron had retreated to his own bed and drawn the curtains.

His eyes moved back to Harry. He still sat upright, sniffing. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, swiping away the stray tears lingering on his cheeks. Then he let out a long breath, rolled over onto his left side, and tried to find sleep.

*

No one woke Harry the next morning. He woke around 11am to a silent dorm. He pushed himself into a sitting position, grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and blinked at the bright sunlight. Fluffy white clouds drifted by outside and the sky boasted a brilliant blue. Harry huffed a small smile, then looked around the room as he got out of bed. All of the other beds except for one were empty. Draco lay in his bed with the curtains open, fast asleep, clutching his blankets. Harry’s smile spread. He looked so peaceful like this.

As quietly as he could he opened his trunk, slipped on some jeans and a t-shirt, then tied his shoes. He didn’t want to wake the other boy, knowing he already had a particularly hard time sleeping. After closing the door silently, he jogged down the stairs to find Ron and Hermione. They were sitting on opposite couches from each other, Ron playing chess with Justin and Hermione reading. A plate of food between sat beside Ron that was untouched. Pansy sat beside Hermione, reading a magazine, while Blaise sat in an armchair, perusing a textbook.

Ron glanced up at him as he reached the couches. “Morning mate.”

“Morning, guys.”

“We brought you some food, Harry,” said Hermione.

“Thanks.” He grabbed the plate from the couch, then sank into the other armchair, bringing a cold piece of toast to his mouth.

“Is Draco still sleeping?” Blaise asked, not looking up from his textbook.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, crumbs falling back onto his plate. Blaise looked up at him with a face that said, ‘ _Really?’_ Harry averted his gaze, silently laughing to himself. He turned to Justin. “Who’s winning?”

Justin turned to him, pushing a piece of dark hair off of his forehead with annoyance. “Ron. This is our third game and I haven’t won one yet.”

“What happened to ‘best two out of three?’”

“Er… I want to win one?”

Harry snorted, picking up a forkful of eggs. “Whatcha reading, ‘Mione?”

“Shh.”

“Okay…” He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his school emails. One from Maya, asking about extra Quidditch training drills. Professor McGonagall reminding them about an assignment due date. Assigned reading from potions, which, Harry assumed, was what Blaise was reading.

Harry glanced up at the sound of Pansy’s voice. “This would look good on you,” she said to Hermione, pointing to something on a page of her volume of _Witch Weekly._

With an eye-roll Hermione glanced over at it then scoffed. “Yeah, okay, Pansy. Whatever you say.”

“ _I_ think it would.”

“You have too much confidence in me.”

“I never said that,” she chuckled, and Hermione shouldered her, supressing a smile.

Harry returned back to his phone, this time checking his messages. One from Ginny, asking about the date and time of their next practice. One from Neville—a funny picture of a weird plant in the greenhouse that he turned into a poor rendition of a meme. But hey, at least he was learning, like a lot of the students were who had never been exposed to muggle tech and pop-culture before. A section of the ministry had even been added to make muggle tech work with magic, and to develop wizarding versions of Google and social media that wouldn’t risk exposing their secret to the rest of the world. He laughed inwardly at the thought of his schoolmates using a wizarding Instagram or Snapchat—he could see it now. Hermione posting on her snap story a picture of all her textbooks followed by the timestamp, 3:00am. Awkwardly cute photos of Seamus and Dean, or Deamus as they all jokingly called the pair, on Instagram. Draco posting a selfie with a snarky caption, or maybe, just maybe, a picture of how he preferred to be… bundled up in a sweater by the fire reading a book, his hair loose with no gel, as he had so often been wearing it for the last few years.

Harry shook the thought away, scrolling through and answering a few more messages. George checking in on him— _dammit, Ron…_ Then one from Dudley, to Harry’s surprise asking him how the start of his year had been going so far. They had made up and caught up in the summer, and had taken to talking on the phone once in a while. Dudley hadn’t lied to Harry before he’d left that day—he didn’t think he was a waste of space. He had apologized to him, and asked him what it was like, being a wizard. What the war was like. He seemed fascinated, but also worried. Harry could tell, even though Dudley just laughed it off.

“Dammit, Ron!” Harry turned to Justin and Ron, watching Ron’s smug face as he took Justin’s king. Justin turned to Harry. “He’s a cheater, I’m tellin’ ya!” But he didn’t mean it, his smile was too genuine.

“I know. Damn Weasley always finds a way to beat ya.”

“Sodd off, Harry,” Ron chortled. Harry made a face, to which Ron only shook his head, grinning.

Ron sat back and pulled out his phone. Harry turned to Justin. “Wanna play cards?”

“Nah. I’m no good at exploding snap.”

“No, I mean like, 31.”

“Oh, then yes. Absolutely.”

Harry smiled, then silently summoned his deck of cards from his trunk. It whizzed into his hand and he moved to sit on the floor with Justin, the carpet much softer than he’d realized. “’Mione, do you wanna play 31?”

She glanced down at him, contemplating. Then she closed her book and slid onto the floor. “Sure. Haven’t played that in a while.”

Harry shuffled the deck, then cut it and dealt them each three cards. He turned the top card up for Justin. An ace of hearts. “Fuck.”

“Aha!” Justin whooped, snatching it off of the floor and replacing it with a two of hearts.

Hermione gave him a look. “And that’s useful to me how?”

“It’s not. But it’s fun for me!”

Hermione shook her head with a breathy laugh, then took a card off of the pile and put down a seven of spades. Harry scowled, then picked up the top card. Ten of clubs. He surveyed his cards. Queen of spades, five of hearts, nine of diamonds. He rolled his eyes, replacing the five. Justin smirked at him, as did Hermione on her next turn. He managed to pick up a jack of clubs as well, but Hermione knocked on her next turn. “Suck on that one.”

Harry rolled his eyes, picking up a seven of clubs. Then Justin pulled a card, stared Hermione right in the eyes, then cried, “31!”

“Dammit, Justin!” She layed down her cards. “I had three Kings!”

Harry layed down his cards. “And I had jack-squat.” They both laughed at him as Justin rounded up the cards and began to shuffle them.

Ron tapped him on the shoulder. “What’s 31?”

Pansy and Blaise were watching him now, too. “It’s a muggle card game,” he explained. “Kinda similar to Blackja—nevermind. Basically, you have to collect 31 points of all the same suit. So Justin had an ace, queen, and jack of hearts, which equals 31 because the ace is eleven and the face cards are all ten. Does that make sense?”

Pansy furrowed her brows. “Then why was Hermione mad that she had three kings? They’re all different suits. And why did she knock?”

Hermione smiled up at her. “Because that’s another way to win.”

“What do you mean?” Blaise asked.

Justin cut the cards. “If you can collect three of the same cards, you can knock. The other players get to draw one more card. Unless they have three cards of a higher value than yours, you can win. So if I had three kings and Hermione had three aces, she’d win, because she’s ace high.”

“You can also knock if you think you have a higher value than anyone else, say… 29. That’s a common time to knock. Do you guys want to play?”

The three grinned at him and Justin started dealing. “Absolutely.”

*

After quite a few competitive rounds of 31, Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed to the Great Hall for some lunch. While piling a couple of sandwiches onto his plate, Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and watched as the name _Draco Malfoy_ disappeared from the glowing screen. He opened the message, ‘Hey.’

Shocked that he texted first, he replied instantly. ‘ _Hey, how’re u?’_

_‘_ Im ok. U?’

Harry scrutinized the screen. ‘ _Fine. How was your night?’_

‘It was okay. One of the boys in my dorm had a nightmare last night.’

Harry cringed, remembering what had happened. Draco had probably still been awake. ‘ _Did he wake you?’_

‘No. I was still awake. Reading. It was just upsetting to watch.’

Harry blinked at the message, then typed, ‘ _Did you wake him up?’_

‘No. His mate beat me to it. We aren’t exactly friends... but it was still unnerving to see him like that.’

_‘Why?’_

‘He looked like he was in so much pain, and I’ve always known him to be so strong… Part of me wanted to shake him and the other half wanted to make sure he was okay.’

Harry had to reread the message several times before he could accept that it was real. _‘Why didn’t you, if you were awake when it started?’_

‘Idk… we’ve never gotten along. He’d just push me away.’

His heart was beating faster, he could feel it. _‘Maybe not.’_

’You don’t know him or me… trust me. He would.’

Harry shook his head. ‘ _I’ll take you word for it. But you wanted to?’_

‘Yeah.’ His heart lurched.

Unable to contain whatever longing he was feeling, he typed, ‘ _If it happens again, try to. See if he’s okay. Wake him up. He’ll probably appreciate it, especially coming from you.’_

‘Okay. I will. Thanks.’

‘ _Np.’_

For some reason, he couldn’t quite understand why he had just said that. Why he’d practically invited Draco to sit on the edge of his bed and comfort him the next time he woke up in tears. And he also didn’t understand why it didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Why, possibly, he might be wondering what that would _feel_ like.

But he probably wouldn’t do it. He thought that he was just talking to some random guy who was giving him advice. And he had very particular opinions about Harry.

_If he only knew._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Let me know what you think! The next chapter should be coming very soon! Until next time. -Emma :)


	10. Duelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DADA has the class duelling, revealing the struggles of some of the students. Harry has quidditch practice, and then he, Ron, Dean, and Draco have some fun.

When Thursday morning arrived, no one was quite ready to start duelling again for DADA. Not the students who’d fought in the war at least. Harry stalked through the halls with Ron towards the classroom, and Hermione had gone early to talk to Professor Spunks about how this could affect some of the class. Harry shoved his wand into his pocket and frowned at Ron, knowing he was thinking the same things as he was. Many of the other eighth years had an look of apprehension on their faces, as did a few of the seventh years as they entered the classroom.

Hermione huffed over and plopped down beside Ron, rolling her eyes. “He’s adamant that we duel today. I just… I don’t think some people are ready for that yet. I know it’s in the curriculum, but why do we have to do it so early?”

Ron shrugged, looking behind him at Harry and Neville for their opinions. Neville contemplated it before speaking. “He probably wants us to stay used to it, instead of getting rusty, or avoiding it altogether. The longer we wait, the more nervous we will get. You know?”

Hermione pursed her lips, then nodded. “You’re right, Neville.”

Harry looked at him, amused, and nodded. Then he tapped Ron on the shoulder. “Wanna partner up today?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Alright class,” Professor Spunks boomed, striding into the room. “I assume you all remember that we will be duelling today?” The class nodded. “Now, today we will be doing review. Just what you already know. Try your best to use silent spells, but you can verbalize if you must. But first, let’s go over some quick theory. Who can tell me what the difference is between a jinx, a hex, and a curse?”

Hermione raised her hand and he pointed to her. “A jinx is benign dark magic, meant for minor inconvenience. A hex is slightly more severe and can inflict some harm, and a curse is dark magic meant to inflict serious harm on the victim.”

“Perfect, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. How about someone else now… who can tell me some different defensive spells that come in handy? Yes, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco cleared his throat. “You can use several defensive spells to shield yourself or force objects away. Some common examples are depulso, fianto duri, fumos, and protego. You can also use healing charms and counter spells, such as vulnera senenteur, rennervate, relashio, libera corpus, ferula, expelliarmus, episkey, ennervate, and anapneo.”

“Very good, very good! Five points to Slytherin. How about some of the common jinxes and hexes used in duelling… Miss Lovegood?”

“Well, there’s quite a few, but the ones I know of are avis, bombarda, cantis, confringo, everte statum, expulso, flipendo, incarcerous, lacarnum inflamarae, levicorpus, langlock, locomotor mortis, mimblewimble, oppugno, petrificus totalus, reducto, rictumsempra, steleus, the stinging jinx, stupefy, and tarentellegra.”

“Five points to Ravenclaw. Anyone else want to name a few? Alright, Mister Finch-Fletchely.”

“The babbling curse, conjunctivitis, furnunculus, obscuro, serpensortia, slugulus errecto, and ventus are some others I’ve read about or used.”

“Perfect! Well it looks like we’ve got all four houses now, five points to Hufflepuff. Finally, can anyone tell me some of the curses I will not, under any circumstances, tolerate in this room? Mister Malfoy again.”

“Obviously, the three unforgivables. But a few more dangerous ones I can think of are the entrail-expelling curse, obliviate, transmogrify… sectumsempra… and… fiendfyre.”

“Excellent! Of course, as I said, I will not tolerate the use of those spells in this room, under any circumstances. They are incredibly dangerous. Five more points to Slytherin.”

Harry smiled over at Draco, but he was staring at the textbook sitting on his desk. He was blinking at it slowly, head down. Harry wondered if maybe he was remembering something that had happened. But if it was Harry’s use of sectumsempra or Crabbe’s use of fiendfyre he wasn’t sure.

“Alright. Now, I’d like you to partner up. I won’t partner you this time, because it’s just review, and as I have been told, some of you may not be very comfortable with this so soon after the war. Take your time, get used to it, and if you need to stop, take a few minutes. Off you go.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other before leaving their desks and heading to the back of the room across from each other. Harry stood against the back wall and watched as his classmates paired up and joined the two lines. Hermione came and stood on his left, across from Pansy, who’d been sitting across the aisle from her with Draco. Draco came and stood on Harry’s right, across from Justin, of all people. To Hermione’s left was Luna, with Ginny. On Draco’s right, was Theo Nott, across from Blaise. Neville was next to Blaise, paired up with Hannah Abbott. Seamus was beside Luna, with Dean across from him. As the rest of the class got into line, Harry took a deep breath, then looked at Ron. He lowered his hands in a ‘calm down’ gesture. Harry nodded, looking away. Although he was nervous, he knew that Ron wasn’t going to hurt him.

The duelling started after everyone had found their place, and the room became full of light, movement, and sound. Jets of light, laughter, squeaking shoes. Harry pointed his wand at Ron and thought in his head, _flipendo._ Ron flew backwards and fell on his ass, then smirked at Harry. Red light came his way and soon he was laughing uncontrollably. Harry pointed and shot again, but Ron deflected the hex.

A scream came from beside them, and they instantly turned to Hermione. She was clutching the scar on her arm that Bellatrix had dug there. She’d missed dodging a hex by an inch, and it had hit her. Pansy jogged over. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. Are you alright?”

Hermione panted. “Yeah, yeah, it’s alright. I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just keep going.”

Harry turned back his way and caught a horrified look on Draco’s face. Harry raised his brows and the other boy turned away, yelling “ _everte statum_!” Him and Justin had been duelling fiercely, and they both had to move diligently to avoid getting hit.

Harry looked back to Ron, who had his wand out in front of them. As he turned back red light shot from it once more, and Harry instinctively yelled, “ _Protego_!” Then he cast tallentalegra, and Ron was doing a jig. It was amusing, Ron’s scowl and shaking head in contrast to the cheerful dancing.

Harry caught sight on Luna being sent backwards and knocked on her ass by Ginny, who first looked proud and then concerned when it took Luna a second to stand again. Harry pursed his lips, turning back to Ron, and missed dodging a hex a second to late. HE was hit with flipendo, and smacked into the back wall with a hard thud. He fell to the floor, staring up at Ron, who’d stepped towards him, an arm outstretched. Harry took it and Ron pulled him up. “Sorry, mate. You alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, a little jittery. “Just, er… give me a second.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, taking a small step back.

Harry took a deep breath, eyes closed, then opened them again. He knew he shouldn’t be so shaken, they were only in class after all. If anything, it should remind him of the fun times he’d had with the DA. But now, even that stood for something more, and he just couldn’t shake off the bad memories and connotations held by so many things he used to enjoy.

Beside Ron, Justin mumbled, “ _serpensortia_.” A snake flew from the end of his wand, landing ten feet away from Draco. It slithered forwards and Draco jumped back with a gasp. He quickly hit the wall with his back, eyes blown wide. Justin only stood still, an eyebrow quirked in a sort of concerned curiosity.

Harry took this in, and realized where Draco’s sudden fear of snakes had come from. Living with Voldemort, he’d know all about what that snake could do. Had probably seen Nagini kill or maim on more than one occasion, and then had her around the house constantly. Harry pointed his wand at it and said, “ _vipera evanesce._ ” The snake vanished and Draco panted, closing his eyes. Harry could hear him counting to ten in the chaos of the room. Finally, he opened his eyes and returned his wand to duelling stance.

*

Harry had missed flying desperately during the war and was ecstatic every time he had gotten on a broom since. That night’s quidditch practice was not exception. He hovered slightly above the middle ring, watching the chasers weave in and out of each other and take shots on Ron. Ginny managed a few, winking at her brother as she soared around the hoop. He sneered back at her, mumbling a few choice words under his breath at her snarkiness. Harry shook his head with a smile at the two of them. They were always bickering when around each other, but it was humorous for the rest of them to watch during meals or when Ginny had visited the common room a couple of times.

He decided that he didn’t mind coming back to school after all. He’d been skeptical about how he’d handle it, but so far, it didn’t seem too bad. He was settling in nicely. He had his friends still and was developing new relationships with people, like Blaise and Draco, that he never would have imagine. He was getting closer with people like Justin that he hadn’t been as close with before. It was fun to sit in the common room with everyone his own age, everyone who’d gone through the war together in some way, shape, or form. Everyone who he knew, but didn’t know at the same time. It wasn’t so bad, after all. Granted, it had only been a few weeks, but an eventful few.

Ginny scored another ten points and Ron huffed at Harry, drawing his attention away from his thoughts. “Can’t we work on something else now? Training Maya, maybe?”

Harry nodded his head towards the side of the pitch. “She’s already training over there with Jimmy.”

“Looks more like flirting to me.”

Harry squinted over at them, then rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll bring them in to practice their positioning on defence. Happy?”

“Not really. Ginny’s still gunna take her anger at a guy who catcalled her today out on me!”

Harry snorted, only nodding in response.

*

Harry, Ron, and Dean strode into the common room with wind-burned cheeks and their eyes set on food. Draco looked up from his textbook immediately after hearing them come in, and watched as Harry spotted the platters sent for them. They strolled over to the area where Draco was sitting, curled up in the corner of the couch with parchment draped inside his textbook working on potions homework. He quickly turned his attention back to his book, and felt the couch dip beside him as someone sat down.

“Hey,” Harry said, turning to look at him.

Draco didn’t switch his gaze, just continued reading the same line over again for the third time. “Hi.”

Harry turned his attention away from him, and grabbed something off of one of the platters. The three boys were silent for a moment, the only sounds the sliding of the platters across the coffee table and who he was sure was Ron almost spilling a pitcher of water across from him. He rolled his eyes at his book, but they were mostly hidden by his hair anyways. He peaked up slightly to look around him, and saw Harry’s flushed face turned down at his plate, cutting something in his lap. He was still in his scarlet and gold quidditch sweater and as Draco’s eyes raked his body, he felt his face turning the same shade of red. Quickly, he turned his eyes back to his book, praying that Harry hadn’t noticed.

If he did, he said nothing about it. Draco tried earnestly to continue his studying, but found it impossible when the boy next to him began talking about Quidditch. Every time he tried to read the next line, he had to go back and read the previous one. The sound of Harry’s voice was utterly distracting, and he all but gave up and listened to their conversation.

“How do you think Maya is doing?” Harry asked, chewing a piece of whatever he’d been cutting.

Silence for a moment, and then Dean spoke. “She’s doing alright. I don’t think that’s the right position for her though. I reckon next year Ginny’ll move her to seeker.”

“You think so?”

“Do I think so? Are you mad? Have you even watched her fly?”

Harry hesitated. “Only a little. She seemed unsteady at first.”

Dean scoffed. “Merlin, Harry. Spend less time laughing at Ron and watch her. She’s an amazing flyer. She was showing Jimmy a few of her moves during practice.”

“Told you,” said Ron. “Flirting.”

Draco could practically _feel_ Harry rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Like you wouldn’t do the same if Hermione was watching.”

It sounded as though Ron had choked on something. “No I wouldn’t! She’s already into me.” Harry and Dean both laughed. “What? I don’t need to impress her.”

“Mate,” Harry laughed. “It took you seven years.”

“You did the same thing with Ginny! _And_ Cho!”

“Yeah, in only a fraction of the time!”

Draco felt a pang of disappointment run through him, but from what part of the conversation he wasn’t sure. Probably just from missing Quidditch, he presumed. He had always had a natural talent for flying, and missed being able to show it off as the boys were describing.

He was startled from his thoughts as Harry went silent. He tuned back in. “Draco?”

His head shot up. “Sorry, what?”

Harry smirked. “Did I startle you?”

“No. Just working.”

“On what?”

“Potions.”

“That homework isn’t due for a few days!” Ron interjected.

Draco gave him a look that was eerily similar to one Hermione often gave them. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be working on it.”

“Man… you and Hermione have some scarily similar qualities.”

Draco smirked. “Yeah, well that’s one thing Granger and I _can_ agree on. But don’t get any ideas about trying to impress _me._ You’re not my type.” Ron’s mouth dropped open as Draco turned back to Harry. “What were you asking me?”

Harry glanced at Dean, who was openly laughing at Ron, but he himself had a gleam of curiosity in his eye. “Oh, I was just wondering if you wanted something to eat?”

Draco’s blood ran cold. If he lied, would they know? No, they couldn’t… they’d been at practice. And seeing as Blaise wasn’t around to call him out… “No, I’ve already eaten. But thank you.”

Harry shrugged, before reaching out and taking something else from the platter as Draco returned to his book. Or, seemed to, at least.

After a few more minutes Draco heard their plates landing on the table. Someone muttered a spell and the plates and platters vanished. He could feel Harry stretch beside him before leaning back into the couch. Either Ron or Dean yawned. Then Ron’s voice piped up. “Harry, what was that game called that we played the other day?”

“31?”

“Yeah, that one! Say, Dean, have you played it?”

Dean chuckled. “Of course I have. I’m a master at it, back home.”

“Can we play? Harry?”

Harry straightened up and pulled something from his pocket. “ _Accio_ cards.” A whizzing filled Draco’s ears before a smack let him know that the cards had landed in Harry’s hand. “Draco, do you wanna play?”

Tentatively, he turned his attention to Harry, who was holding up a deck of cards. Muggle cards. He quirked his head, then brushed a piece of hair out of his face before it could get into his eyes. “What is it?”

“Muggle card game. I’ll teach you.”

He nodded. “Yeah, alright. Why not?” He watched as Harry grinned at the cards and found himself trying to supress one of his own. Harry shuffled them, cut the deck, then started dealing. He picked up a face card and surveyed it’s still image, then smirked up at the rest of the group. “I’m gunna win.”

Ron let out a burst of laughter, but he had a genuine smile on his face. “You don’t even know how to play yet!”

Draco waved to Blaise over Harry’s shoulder as he headed past them to the stairs, then turned back to Ron. “Doesn’t matter.”

Ron gave him an incredulous look as Harry smiled at him. Harry said nothing, but Dean and Ron both made faces at him throughout the game, rolling their eyes jokingly saying he’d never win. However, their initial reactions to his comment about winning were no match for the _three_ incredulous looks the boys gave him when he actually did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading another chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Definitely let me know what you think! Until next time. - Emma :)


	11. The Charms Mishap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy joins the trio for breakfast. Then charms class doesn't go as expected, leading to a confrontation between Goyle and Draco, and Draco and Harry.

Harry stuffed eggs into his mouth the next morning, scrolling through a list of drill ideas Ginny had sent him the night before. Ron sat beside him, immersed in conversation with Hermione while she flipped through the Daily Prophet. They’d only been there for twenty minutes, but Ron had already finished twice the amount that Harry had, but then again, Harry didn’t usually have much of an appetite. Not like he used to.

Hermione flipped the page and made a disgusted noise. Harry glanced up at her, briefly. “What?”

He could hear the annoyance in her voice as she spoke. “The Ministry is going after Narcissa Malfoy, again.”

Harry stared at her. “What? Are you serious? I testified on her and Draco’s behalf!”

She shrugged, looking between him and Ron. “I guess something else came up. I’m not sure what could have, though. She wasn’t very involved.”

“She wasn’t even a Death-Eater,” said Ron. “What do they want with her now?”

“I thought lying to Voldemort and saving my life would have been enough to keep her out of Azkaban.”

Hermione shut the paper with a shake of her head. “I guess not.”

“I’ll testify again,” Harry insisted, to which Hermione only gave him a sad smile. “What’s next? Dragging Draco into it again?”

Ron looked at Harry, who was fuming, out of the corner of his eye before turning back to his food. Hermione sighed, exasperated. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, Harry. There’s no use worrying about it until we know.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Harry digressed, going back to reading the list from Ginny.

A moment later a new voice startled Harry’s attention away from his phone once again. Pansy was standing next to Hermione, a plate of food and a cup of steaming tea in her hands. “Can I sit here?”

Hermione grinned before moving her bag so Pansy could sit. “Of course.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other then back at Pansy, who sipped at her tea. “Draco and Blaise both left the table halfway through breakfast.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Did either of them say where they were going?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Draco just up and left, and then Blaise followed muttering something about ‘getting to the bottom of something.’ Whatever that means.”

Harry nodded, then scooped some more eggs into his mouth. Hermione turned to the black-haired girl. “Well, you’re welcome to sit here whenever you want.”

“Thanks. You can come sit with use over there, too. I swear Draco and Blaise aren’t so bad. Even Theo.” She laughed at that, like it was some sort of inside joke. It probably was.

Hermione eyed her with an amused smile as she swallowed a mouthful of toast. “We’ve found that out.”

“Have you now? How?”

Ron cleared his throat. “Well Blaise and Harry are all chummy now,” he joked. “And Draco, well, he’s not so bad once he’s not being a git. Harry would know, wouldn’t you, Harry?”

Harry nearly choked on his eggs, and he spluttered for a moment. “Y-yeah. He’s fine.”

Pansy eyed him, but whether she was amused at his choking or his stance on Draco, Harry wasn’t sure. Finally, she nodded. “Alright then.” She turned to Hermione. “Did you hear about Hannah?”

“What about her?”

“Well… I heard her telling Susan last night that she’d hooked up with someone.”

“Hannah? Hannah Abbott?”

“The very same.”

“You’re joking, Pansy.”

“I’m not!” Pansy laughed, swatting Hermione’s arm. “She was out shagging some bloke last night.”

“Wow. Never saw that one coming,” Hermione smirked, glancing between Harry and Ron, trying to find the blonde Hufflepuff. “Did you see the drawing Sue’s little sister sent her yesterday morning?”

“No. What was it of?”

“I think it was supposed to be a unicorn.”

“You _think_?”

Hermione chuckled as she finished her plate. “Well, it wasn’t the best drawing in the world. She is only six, you know.” Pansy shrugged. “I thought it was really cute. Sue’s face just lit up when she showed us last night after dinner.”

“That is cute. I wish I had a younger sister.” She stabbed a sausage with her fork and brought it to her mouth. “Did I tell you Draco got a message from his number neighbour.”

Hermione’s eyes stared right at Harry, but he quickly looked away as Hermione answered. “No. When?”

“Start of term… I thought I told you. Some guy that goes here. What are the chances?”

“Yeah,” she said, supressing a grin. “Does he have any idea who it is?”

“He asked, but the guy wouldn’t tell him. So they’ve just decided not to tell each other. At least, not yet.”

“That’s kinda nice for him.”

Pansy nodded, face suddenly solemn. “Yeah. Gives him somebody to talk to with anonymity… He’s not the same now as he was before. I guess I shouldn’t have expected him to be. But it’s still a little…”

“Odd?”

“Yeah. I’m not used to him being so quiet and drawn back. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t say anything. Just pushes me away. We’ve always been close, so that makes it more weird.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Hermione reassured her.

“Yeah,” Pansy said, a smile ghosting her lips. “I’m sure he will.”

*

Charms class that afternoon went slightly haywire. Not from the beginning, of course. It started just like any other class. Flitwick had them working on some more review, just of charms they had learned in the last couple of years to get that mindset back again. Harry sat near the top of the room, situated between Hermione and Ron. Seamus and Dean sat on Ron’s right, goofing off with charms they’d learned over the summer. Flitwick was shaking his head at them, but his smile showed he was impressed. Hemione was talking to Sue and Padma, who were sitting nearby as well. In the next row down, Draco and Blaise were practicing the bubble-head charm. Draco had the bubble around his head, smiling at Blaise, who poked it with his wand. Draco, faking offence, backed away from his friend, pointing his wand at him.

Harry turned to Ron, who was trying to turn vinegar to wine. Harry remembered Hermione doing it in sixth year, and laughed when all Ron achieved was creating ripples in the clear liquid. “Go on then,” Ron chided. “You try it.”

Harry stifled his laugh and pointed his wand at the vinegar. A burst of air came out his wand and Ron had to catch the goblet, glaring at Harry. Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I need more practice.” Ron rolled his eyes, but grinned as he turned away, trying once more.

Harry stared around the room for a moment, taking in all of the different students practicing different charms. Hermione, of course, had a glass of wine in front of her. Sue had dried out some sort of flower. Luna was beaming at the legs on the teacup in front of her, which Ginny was raising her eyebrows at with something between amusement and confusion. As he turned back to the other side of the room, he saw a flare of orange over Ron’s shoulder. Squinting at it, his eyes widened, realizing someone below had set something on fire.

Harry shook Ron’s shoulder, and when he turned, agitated, Harry pointed at the growing flame. Ron shook Seamus, and he and Dean too were soon staring at the flame. Professor Flitwick called out in shock as it began eating at the stack of books he was standing on. With a gasp, Hermione turned and shot a jet of water at it, but it wasn’t enough. Flitwick tumbled off the stack into the row of seats on the other side of the class. Hermione jumped down the rows with a few other students, who were trying to put the fire out.

Harry turned to the boys. “How the fuck did someone manage that?” He stood as they did, pushing their chairs in to exit the room. Harry looked at Seamus, who was being nudged by Dean. “How the fuck do _you_ manage that?”

“It’s a talent,” he laughed. “But obviously, this one wasn’t me. Seemed to be coming from one of the seventh years at the bottom.”

“Harry!” The hiss of a boy’s voice caught his attention over the noise of the students shuffling out of their seats along the long classroom. He turned to see Blaise staring at him.

“What?”

He pointed to Draco, and it took Harry a moment to realize what was going on. The blond was staring at the flames at the other end of the room, paralyzed in fear. His eyes were glassy, but there was no mistaking the look on his face. It was the exact same one Harry had seen during the Battle of Hogwarts in the Room of Requirement. Blaise looked at Harry, desperately. “The flames are going to get over here eventually. Help me.”

Harry waved the boys past him and jumped down into the next row with Blaise. The blond’s breathing had picked up, Harry noticed, as he got closer. He placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder, but the other boy flinched and shoved him off. Harry looked to Blaise, then back to Draco. “We need to move. They can put the fire out, out we have to go out in the corridor. Let’s go.”

He grasped the blond’s arm, and Blaise grasped the other one, and together they tugged him forwards. His gaze snapped away and he hurried with Harry and Blaise, taking wild looks back at the orange glow and jets of water. Blaise elbowed his way through a group of people and brought them to a bench against the wall, where Harry pulled Draco down to sit. He was back to staring at the flames, which were slowly being put out. Harry could tell it wasn’t that serious, but obviously to Draco, it did not seem that way. Blaise, who sat on Draco’s other side, surveyed him. He was heaving for breath, completely unaware that some other students were staring at him. It was as if all he could see was the fire. The scene repeating in his head like a broken record. Crabbe’s scream as he fell into the inferno…

“What’s happening?” Blaise demanded, worry creasing the lines of his face.

Harry didn’t take his eyes off of Draco as he spoke. “I think he’s having a flashback to the fiendfyre…”

At that word, Draco flinched, his face contorting and a strangled noise escaping his throat. Harry and Blaise both jumped slightly, looking at each other, bewildered. Harry tentatively stretched out a hand and placed in on Draco’s arm, but he pushed him off, clearly not wanting to be touched. Blaise held his hands out in a ‘what the hell do we do now’ gesture. Harry scratched the nape of his neck. “Wait?” Blaise huffed, clearly wanting to do something else to snap the blond out if this. But eventually his face softened as he watched the terror in Draco’s grimace as he sat with his eyes closed, trembling.

Soon McGonagall arrived in the corridor, Filch behind her. They entered as Hermione exited the classroom with a few others who were supporting Professor Flitwick. She wandered over to Harry and stood next to him. “McGonagall is just going to survey the damage, I think.”

“How’s Flitwick?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Just a tad startled.”

“Makes sense. You all put it out then?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it wasn’t too bad, really. A charm went wrong. But it wouldn’t have looked so bad if that side of the class was taken up by old books.” She pouted at that at Harry had to hold back a smirk. “What happened with you three?”

Harry looked over at Blaise and Draco, then back to Hermione. He gestured for her to come closer and she leaned down for him to whisper. “I think Draco’s remembering the fiendfyre. I had to help Blaise get him to move. He’s panicking a little, I think.”

Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by McGonagall. She strode out of the room and addressed all of the students present. “Alright everyone. This room should be back in working order in just a day or two. You are all dismissed.”

Those words seemed to break Draco out of his daze. He stood abruptly and took off in the opposite direction from everyone else. Blaise stood to follow but Harry held up a hand. “My turn.” He spun on his heel and left in the same way as Draco had, leaving Hermione and Blaise staring after him.

Draco was practically jogging as he rounded the third corner, yanking relentlessly at his tie. Harry couldn’t help but remember a similar sight in sixth year and it yanked on his heart harshly. Too many what-ifs to count. He had just about decided enough was enough and was going to call his name when someone else entered the corridor from an intersecting one.

Harry hid behind a suit of armour as he watched Goyle bash into Draco, sending his small figure flying into the wall and sliding down to the floor with a thud. He looked up at the other Slytherin, dazed. “Scared, Malfoy?”

Draco stared up at him, out of breath and wincing. “I--”

“It’s your fault, you know,” Goyle said lowly. “It’s your fault he’s dead, Draco.” 

“No, I--”

“It is, and you know it! Him and I were there, thinking we were bringing Potter to Him.” 

“I-I tried to save you. Both of you.”

“You didn’t even have a wand,” Goyle scoffed.

“I did my best… but he fell when we were climbing… And after we left, trying to get us out of there unscathed.”

“You did a piss poor job of it. We both ended up bloody and almost killed by both sides. You’re bloody pathetic.”

“I dragged you up onto that stack of furniture while you were unconscious! I could’ve left you there. But I didn’t.”

_“I don’t care_ ,” he seethed. “Crabbe’s _dead_. And it's your fault.”

“Greg.”

“You aren’t gunna get passed this one so easily, _Malfoy_. I’m gunna make your life a living hell. Got it?”

Draco nodded, straining to keep a semi-straight face. “It already is,” he mumbled under his breath, but Harry still caught it. 

Goyle smirked, shaking his head. “You really are pathetic.” With that he turned and walked away from them.

Harry turned his attention back to Draco, still sitting against the wall. His façade didn’t last long—barely until Goyle was around the corner. Then it crumbled and tears leaked from his eyes. Harry watched as he drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in between them. He could hear him crying. Tentatively, Harry stepped back into sight and started towards him.

“Leave me alone, Potter.”

Harry stopped in his tracks. “How’d you know it was me?”

“It’s always you.”

He paused, thinking of what to say. “It’s not your fault.”

Draco shrugged, not looking up as he spoke in a pretend nonchalant voice. However, it wasn’t very effective, as it broke at the end. “A lot of things are my fault…”

Harry crouched down and put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “You did what you had to do… but you aren’t your past.”

“Leave me alone,” he sniffed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Draco--”

“I said I’m fine, Harry!” he snapped, finally looking up. 

“But you’re not fine. I know you’re not.”

He huffed, staring back at his knees. “Stop...”

“Stop what?”

“You’re trying to figure me out, and I don’t like it.”

Harry dragged a hand over his face, trying not to let his voice come out as exasperated as he felt. “Why? Because you think I’ll figure out what’s up?”

“No!” His heard whipped up to look at Harry. He wasn’t sure what was worse, seeing the tears still falling down his cheeks or the desperate look in his eyes. “Because you don’t know me! You don’t know what I’ve been through and even if there was something more going on, I wouldn’t tell. So why are you trying?”

“I’m trying because you’re hurting. I can tell.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stop saying that,” Harry whispered. “Stop lying. You don’t have to keep this all bottled up or hide it. You’re allowed to _feel_ you know?”

“I’ve never been allowed to feel. Ever. Especially not when I needed to, or needed to talk, or whenever I wasn’t okay.” Draco’s stormy eyes searched Harry’s, as if begging him to understand what he was saying and why. “The last few years have been hell for me, too, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Talk about it.”

He scoffed, wiping tears off his face. “Why are you here? Why are you so fucking persistent? Why are you even talking to me about this?”

“Do you remember the nightmare you had? And how I sat with you until you calmed down?”

He looked away. “Vaguely.”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Whatever we were before the war, can we just forget about it? I saw you in pain, and I wanted to help.” 

“It was one night.”

“That’s what you want everyone to believe. But Blaise and I… we see past that. Draco, I _know_ there’s something going on. You can talk to me.” He sighed, not making eye contact. “And _I_ know, even if you don’t realize that I do, that you’ve suffered more than just one night.”

Draco only stared at him, mouth slightly open, pulling his arms tightly against his body. “What?”

Harry swallowed thickly. “I knew you were dreaming about being tortured that night because… I heard it. When you were tortured by Voldemort. I could hear you screaming. And I’m not the only one who’s heard you and knows what he did to you.”

Draco’s eyes ignited with fury. “What the fuck, Harry? You can’t just—you _can’t!_ ”

Harry sat back on his haunches, hands up. “I—sorry…At least… just… talk to someone. Even if it’s not Blaise or me.” Draco avoided looking at Harry, reigning in the anger from his outburst. He swiped at his eyes, engulfed in silence. “Goyle’s wrong by the way. I remember what happened. It wasn’t your fault… Please don’t blame yourself.” He was still silent. “I’m going to dinner. But, I’m here, if you need someone.”

Then he stood and walked away, leaving Draco on the ground, swiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. Harry strode briskly to the Great Hall to meet Ron and Hermione, who greeted him with warm smiles. He piled lasagna onto his plate and dug in, avoiding questions about what had happened with Draco altogether. Although, he couldn’t avoid it for long. Near the end of dinner his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out stared at the glowing screen with a mix of relief and disbelief.

‘Hey… I’m really struggling rn. Can I talk to you?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Until next time! -Emma :)


	12. Telling the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry responds to Draco's message, and they discuss what has been going on with him. Followed by a mishap on Prefect duty.

After staring at the message or a solid 30 seconds, Harry typed back. ‘ _Of course. What’s going on?’_

He set his phone down on the table when the typing bubble appeared. Harry looked up at Hermione, who was flipping through her ancient runes textbook, pointing things out to Ron and explaining their meanings. She glanced up at Harry. “Do you think Draco would want to study Ancient Runes with me later?”

Harry glanced down at his phone, and the boy’s face from only minutes prior popped into his head. “Maybe. I dunno. I didn’t even know he was taking that class.”

“Harry, I’ve shared that class with him since sixth year. With all the tabs you kept on him back then, I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

Harry shrugged, glancing at his phone again. “I guess it was, er, just something I didn’t catch on to. Do you think that’s how he learned so much about the vanishing cabinet and how to work it?”

“Probably. He’s at the top of that class with me and Ernie.”

“You and him are at the top of every class, though,” said Ron.

She chuckled. “And?”

Harry was shaking his head with a smile when a thought struck him. “He used to get in a lot of shit for that from his parents, you know.”

“Huh?”

“For not beating you in grades.”

She crinkled her nose. “But he was only _just_ behind me, _if_ we didn’t tie. Sometimes we’d be tied the whole year and come out with slightly different final grades. He’s brilliant. It’s one of the things that made him so infuriating.”

“You’re both brilliant,” Harry mused, staring down at his screen. It lit up and he lifted it in front of his face instantly, ignoring Ron’s comment about how they were also both infuriating.

‘I think I have PTSD, and it’s making things really hard for me. But I don’t think it’s just that. I think other things are going on too, like anxiety and idek what else. I don’t understand what’s happening to me but it’s driving me nuts. Idk how to stop it or what to do about it. One of the boys in my dorm is starting to figure it all out if he hasn’t already and I’m scared. I don’t want him to spread it around or just think I’m weak or that I deserve it, even though I do. I know I do. But the War was really hard on me and some of the stuff that happened I just can’t shake. It comes out at the worst times and I can’t control it and I feel like I’m losing Im my mind.’

Harry took a deep breath, then read through the message again. Playing dumb, he typed back: ‘ _What makes you think he knows?_ ’ He set his phone back down, lifting a forkful of food to his mouth.

“What do you guys wanna do tonight?” Ron asked, looking between him and Hermione, who gave him a look.

“I said I want to study ancient runes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Harry, what do you want to do tonight?”

He smirked. “I have an essay to write. But we can work on it together.”

Ron huffed, shoving another forkful in his mouth. “Fine. As long as we do it together.”

Harry pulled a face. “Who do you take me for?” Ron smiled, then went back to staring at Hermione’s book. Harry’s phone lit up again. ‘He helped me through the aftermath of a nightmare where I relived something awful that happened to me. He’s always checking on me. He keeps telling me he knows I’m not okay and that I should talk to someone. But idk how. I’ve just always been told that I should just take it and I deserve it anyways but it just hurts so bad. And I can’t show it outwardly. I can’t ask for help. I just can’t. I’ve never been like that. I guess that’s because nothing was ever this bad, it was just trivial things. But the last few years have been cruel. Ik it’s not just me. So many people are suffering, so why shouldn’t I? If they can all deal with it, I should just do it on my own, too. It shouldn’t matter what I’m going through, right?’

Harry frowned as he typed back. ‘ _Other people may be suffering, but they might not be able to do it all by themselves. You don’t know if they’re talking to other people or doing things to help them cope. And he sounds caring. Maybe you should open up to him a bit? And it does matter what you’re going through. What kinds of things happen?_ ’ He slipped his phone back into his pocket as Hermione stood from the table, sliding her book into her bag. Remembering Draco heading straight back to the dorm, Harry found an empty plate on the table, cringed at it, not knowing what he liked, and then decided to load it with what he had just eaten. Hermione and Ron raised their brows and he only shrugged. “Draco didn’t come to dinner after charms.”

They walked in relative silence back to the tower that housed their dorms. As they ascended the stairs, Ron paused. Harry and Hermione turned to see his hand lingering on one of the paintings. Fred. He was waving at Ron, who was talking to him in a low voice. Harry and Hermione stepped forward and waved, but let Ron have a moment with his brother. He did this whenever there weren’t too many people using the stairs. Harry did too, sometimes, with Fred, with Lupin and Tonks. Sometimes even Colin.

Harry’s phone buzzed against his leg and he pulled it out. ‘Him and I have never been friends. But lately he just wants to help and idk what to do. I’m not very trusting… never have been. But like symptoms wise? This is embarrassing. I get a lot of panic attacks and nightmares, and usually one will lead to the other, which sometimes leads to just a full on breakdown, which is even more embarrassing. Flashbacks, too. I just… I get a lot of things that trigger me I guess. And it’s stupid there’s so many things that get to me and I hate it its like it never stops and idk what to do about it I just want it to stop. I jump at everything and I constantly have headaches. Sometimes I snap at people but I don’t mean to. And I try to act normal but sometimes it’s too hard and I just can’t and then ppl get worried about me but I don’t want them too bc I’m a worthless piece of shit and I’ve caused too much damage and I have to stop talking now or you’ll figure out who I am.’

Harry took that all in, reading it over several times as he walked back to the common room with Ron and Hermione. As he stepped inside the room with them, he scanned it for Draco. When he was sure he wasn’t there, he typed back. ‘ _First of all you arent worthless or a piece of shit and second if he wants to help you maybe you should give him a chance, you might have more in common than u think. And dont be embarrassed that stuff is common with PTSD and anxiety and stuff. If u just went through the war then u probably saw some awful stuff and went through some horrible things. What happens when u have a panic attack?_ ’

Harry stuffed his phone back in his pocket and headed for the stairs. A bit of potato had slipped off onto the stairs, but he doubted anyone would notice. He pushed the door open and slipped inside, unnoticed at first. Draco was laying on his stomach, as he usually was, typing on his phone. He shut it off when he heard Harry’s footsteps, and looked up, startled. His mouth dropped open slightly once he realized what Harry had in his hands, to which Harry smiled. “I, er… you didn’t eat. So I brought you some dinner.”

Draco let out a short laugh through his nose, but it wasn’t indignant. He seemed… amused? With a smile he took the plate from Harry. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

Draco wouldn’t meet his eyes, only picked at his potatoes, scowling at the hunk missing, but said nothing. Harry cleared his throat. “Hermione wants to know if you’ll come study Ancient Runes with her later?”

He nodded at his plate. “Yeah. Tell her I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Yep.”

Harry stared at him a moment longer, then turned and left the room, wondering why his heart was racing. It was only Draco. He plopped down in a chair cross from Ron, with Hermione on his left and pulled out his Potions textbook, followed by his phone. It buzzed in his hand. ‘Its not always the same. Usually I feel like I can’t breathe, when really I’m hyperventilating. And I just can’t stop thinking, about everything or sometimes just one thing and it gets too much. I get really hot and I can’t always see properly and it freaks me out so I close my eyes and I get nauseous… It makes me shake and I hate it because sometimes I can’t stop for hours after… it makes me really exhausted. And they happen a lot so it makes school hard sometimes. But I’m not always aware of my surroundings and its terrifying so sometimes I’ll push people away and sometimes I won’t bc it brings me back to reality. Sometimes I can talk and tell someone what’s happening and sometimes I can’t say anything at all or sometimes I try and talk but none of it makes sense to me because half of what im thinking I’m saying out loud but not all of it… idk. But it scares the shit out of me.’

Harry frowned, twiddling a pen between his thumb and index finger on his left hand as he thought of what to say. ‘ _I’m sorry. That’s awful. But u know what? I’m sure there’s ppl around u who want to help u. If they know this stuff, they may be able to help when u have one, or at least try to. If they know the signs and know what helps and doesn’t help. Do u know what helps and doesn’t help?_ ’

Harry put his phone down and unrolled his half-finished potions essay, leaving his bag on the seat beside him. He looked up as Padma Patil and Sue Li stood beside the table. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

“Are you guys working on the potions essay?” Padma asked.

Harry nodded as his friends looked up. “Yeah, wanna join us?”

The girls nodded. Padma sat next to Harry and Sue sat beside Ron, both pulling out partially started essays. Harry went back to his paper, adding a transition sentence onto his first body paragraph, squinting at it skeptically. Padma eyed him but said nothing. His phone buzzed once more and he held it away from Padma, not that she would’ve tried to read what he was saying, but just to be sure.

‘I need someone to help bring me back to my senses, like what’s really happening around me. Get me to breathe I guess. That’s what I struggle with the most. It doesn’t help if ur rough w me. Makes it worse actually. Like if ur gunna touch me, which can work, don’t just grab me, u know? I already startle easily.’

Harry nodded at the phone, then typed back. ‘ _I know what u mean. Makes sense. U said sometimes it gets too much and u have breakdowns, what do u mean by that?’_ He was pretty sure he knew, as he turned back to his paper, but he wanted to know what it meant for _Draco._ Once he knew, it would make it a lot easier to recognize.

It took Draco less than thirty seconds to respond. ‘sometimes everything is just too much for me and Im panicking or I have a nightmare or a flashback and I just cant take it and everything inside me is too much and I just break down crying and its humiliating and I hate it. I’ve always hated crying even tho I was a really emotional kid. Always have been really, it never stopped, but I was brought up by strict parents so I couldn’t do that anymore. But it still bubbled up sometimes in the last few years. I could still mostly control it but it happened, and now its beyond my control sometimes and I cant stop once I start.’

“Are you alright, Harry?”

It was Sue. She was staring at him with a creased brow. Harry looked at her, then at the others at the table, who were all giving him a similar look. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just texting someone that’s all.”

She eyed him suspiciously but didn’t dispute. “Okay, just checking. You seemed upset.”

He shook his head before going back to his phone and typing a response. ‘ _U shouldnt keep everything bottled up. Its okay to let it out and feel it properly instead of holding it in. what helps in that situation?’_

A chair pulled out beside Hermione and Hannah Abbott sat down, giving the group a smile. She pulled out her herbology textbook and a quill and began underlining things Harry couldn’t read.

He replied quickly. ‘Idk exactly, ive never really had anyone try and help me. When I had that really bad nightmare that one boy I told u about came and sat w me. He just had his arm around me and idk if it helped but it was nice to have that physical comfort I guess. I wasnt alone, and it was like for once I wasnt going through it alone. But I pushed him off at first. Something happened earlier today too and I think he wanted to do the same thing but I kept saying I was fine. Idk what it is about him but I cant understand him wanting to be there for me and I was never suppose to take comfort from ppl anyways and I don’t trust many ppl so even tho I wanted it it was hard to take. Does that even make sense?’

Another chair pulled out, this time the one beside where Harry’s bag was sitting. Blaise sat down, tapping Hannah’s arm and mumbling something about how he had a herbology question but couldn’t find Neville.

Harry reread the text from Draco and smiled. ‘ _it makes sense. If u really do want the comfort, don’t push him away. He clearly cares about u. do u wanna talk about ur flashbacks or nightmares?’_

‘No.’

‘U will know who I am.’

Harry chuckled. ‘ _Is there anything else u wanna talk about tonight?’_

‘No… I dont think so. But thanks for talking to me. I have to go study now.’

He grinned. ‘ _No problem. I’m here for you if you need to talk. Have a good night._ ’

With that he put his phone away and returned to his essay. A few moments later footsteps pattered down the stairs and over to the table. Draco strode towards them, a book and supplies under his arm, still wearing his school uniform, minus the robes. Harry removed his bag from the chair next to him and put it between his feet. He sat down, mumbled a hi to Harry, and looked across the table to Hermione. “You wanted to study Ancient Runes?”

She grinned up at him. “Yes. Have you started the homework from last class?”

He scratched the back of his neck with his wand. “Not yet, but I’ve looked at it. Why?”

She flipped a few pages in her book, turned it towards him and pointed at a line of runes. “I’m having trouble interpreting it. Want to give it a try?”

He stared at it quizzically. “Do you have spare parchment?”

She rifled through her bag and produced a few sheets. To Harry’s surprise, he picked up his spare pen, and started drawing on the page. Hermione watched him curiously, as did Harry. He worked silently for a few minutes, before turning the sheet back to Hermione. She studied it, then circled a part. “I think the rest of it is right, but I don’t know about this part here…” She watched him as he tapped the pen against his chin. “Geez, Draco. Aren’t you hot in long sleeves? It was hot out today.”

He looked around at everyone else at the table who were either in t-shirts or had their sleeves rolled, then down at himself in his vest and long-sleeved button down. “No. It’s getting colder now that its evening.” Hermione looked at him skeptically but said nothing. He turned the paper back to her. “What do you think about this?”

*

Harry had been tossing and turning in bed for a few hours when his phone buzzed, rattling the wood of his bedside table. He groaned, rolling over to pick it up, as well as his glasses, squinting at the bright screen.

Ron Weasley: Can u help me out? Had to give some kids detention for hexing Draco while we were patrolling. He’s fine but bloodied up, so I sent him back to the common room. Can u help clean him up?

Harry read the text again, shook his head then typed back. ‘ _Yeah. I’ll wait for him by the door.’_

Ron Weasley: He doesn’t know I’m texting u.

‘ _I figured._ ’

Harry grabbed a facecloth from his trunk, then tiptoed to the door, praying that it wouldn’t creak as he opened him. Luckily, it didn’t, and he crept down the stairs and over to the door. There he waited, reading a late-night email from Professor Sprout. Apparently their next class would be in Greenhouse 3 instead of 2.

The door swung open, and Draco stepped through, grumbling under his breath. Seeing Harry’s bare feet he looked up, head tilted ever so slightly. Harry pursed his lips. “They got you good.”

He raised his brows. “Ron texted you?”

“Yeah. Said some kids hexed you. Let’s see the damage.”

“It’s not that bad, honestly—”

“You’re bleeding.”

“You don’t have to—"

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Just let me clean you up, Draco. Stop being a stubborn git and sit your arse down in a chair.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but sat, nonetheless. Harry surveyed him. He took in the scratches on his face and neck, and a deeper one in his left knee, tearing through the pantleg of his trousers. He shook his head, getting to work pulling the skin back together and healing the cut on his knee. He pointed his wand at the cloth he’d brought, muttered ‘ _Auguamenti_ ,” then pressed it to the exposed skin. The blood came away on the cloth and Harry stood from his stooped position to stare at Draco’s face and neck.

Gingerly, he grabbed the other boy’s chin and tilted his head to the left, exposing the two jagged scrapes on his neck. Draco hissed as Harry pressed the wet cloth to them. “Sorry,” he mumbled back. Again, he healed them quickly with his wand, then put both hands on his jaw to look at his face in the candlelight. Draco looked up at him, his silvery eyes looking into Harry’s as he scanned the cuts and blood on his face. He found a few small cuts on his cheekbone and by his lip and healed them. Then he brought the cloth up and dabbed at the cuts. His pale skin had been stained in other places by the bleeding, and Harry wiped the splotches from his face. As he went to drop his hand he caught sight of a thick, pale scar on his cheek. Without thinking he ran his thumb over it, his knuckles brushing Draco’s skin. “The—”

“Chandelier?” he whispered. “Yeah. I’m surprised you remember that.”

Harry dropped his hand and looked him in the eyes. “Why?”

“You were all just trying to get out of there… I didn’t think you even noticed it slashing me.”

“Of course I noticed,” Harry said in disbelief. “I’ve always been aware of you for some reason. And you _did_ call out when it hit you.”

Draco smiled slightly. “I was lucky it didn’t get me in the eyes.”

Harry stared into them, quirking his head. “That would have been a shame.” Then he shook his head and took a step back, as if he’d revealed an embarrassing, intimate part of himself.

Draco’s eyes seemed to come into focus, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks for cleaning me up. Damn third-years.”

“I’d say hex ‘em back but, you know… maybe don’t do that?”

Draco made a face, then shook his head, standing from the chair. “Come on. You should go back to bed. Sorry Ron woke you for this.”

“Nah, don’t be. I couldn’t sleep anyways.”

“Nightmares?” Draco asked, hitting the landing and pushing the door.

“No…” Harry whispered. “I’d have to fall asleep for that. My brain just doesn’t shut up sometimes. Can you have nightmares while you’re awake?”

Draco stopped at his curtains, looking at Harry with an expression Harry couldn’t read, but wished he could. “Yes. You definitely can.” He turned and looked at all of the closed curtains with a sigh, then back at Harry. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Draco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Let me know what you thought of this chapter! See you soon! -Emma :)


	13. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transfiguration antics, a group conversation, and dancing.

Friday came quickly, much to the students delight. The last few days had been spent mostly doing homework, but they had been able to do much of it together, which made it seem not as bad. Today many of them had a light load of classes and were praying for the day to go by quickly. Many of them had transfiguration as their final class of the day, and because McGonagall was the favourite professor of many, they looked forward to her class.

McGonagall had the class working on human transfiguration that day. Harry grinned at Hermione when they were able to start practicing. He knew that Hermione was good at this particular branch of magic, as she had transfigured Ron the previous year, and was hoping she could give him some pointers. She rolled her eyes in response, knowing what he was thinking. “Don’t get your hopes up, Harry.”

He laughed. “What should we start with?”

Hermione tapped her chin with her wand. “Change the colour of my hair.”

“Okay, what col—”

“Can I join you?”

Harry and Hermione both looked up to see Draco standing there, fiddling with his tie. Harry nodded. “Where’s Pansy?”

Draco shrugged. “Off snogging some bloke, probably,” he chuckled. Then he pulled up a chair, so he was facing them both. “What were you two starting with?”

“I was going to change her hair colour,” Harry said. “I can try yours, too, if you like. It might be easier, because your hair is such a light colour.”

“Harry, I think you’re thinking of hair dye,” chirped Hermione.

Harry thought about that for a minute, then quirked his head. “Either way.”

“Sure,” said Draco. “Or you can do mine, I’ll do Hermione, and Hermione can do yours. How about we try and give the other person our own hair colour?”

Harry looked at Hermione, who agreed, then he tuned to face Draco. The blond sat very still, watching as Harry pointed his wand at his hair, stared very intently and muttered the spell. Sure enough, when Harry retracted his wand, Draco’s hair had turned the same shade of black as Harry’s own. He gaped, taking in the sight of Draco with dark hair. It definitely didn’t suit him, but it was interesting, nonetheless.

Draco raised his still very-blond eyebrows at Harry. “Do I look that bad?”

Harry sniggered. “Hey look, ‘Mione. He’s goth.”

She only shook her head, pulling a handheld mirror out of her bag. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He looked in it and recoiled. “ _Merlin._ No. This looks… this is _dreadful._ ”

Harry chortled and Hermione took the mirror back and placed it on the table. Draco turned to her and, much quicker than Harry, turned Hermione’s hair platinum blond. He smirked and she picked up the mirror, grimacing. “Oh no… Draco, how is it that you and Luna can actually pull off this hair colour?”

“You think it looks nice on me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Wipe that smirk off your face, Malfoy, and take the compliment.” He only laughed as he watched her attention shift to Harry. Within seconds his hair was a light brown, which oddly suited him. Hermione’s eyes widened as she took him in. “That actually looks good on you!”

“Thanks?” Harry looked in the mirror and then nodded. “Thanks.”

Professor McGonagall came up to them and her eyes widened. “Hello,” she said, a laugh clearly being suppressed.

The three of them grinned and Hermione spoke up. “What else should we try, Professor?”

“First I think you should fix that monstrosity on Mister Malfoy’s head… and then try adding or removing freckles.”

The group nodded then turned back to each other. Harry pointed his wand at Draco, who went cross-eyed. “What are you doing Harry?”

“Giving you freckles.”

“O-okay.” The freckles scattered across his face and he picked up the mirror when Harry was done. He took in the small dots covering his nose and cheeks and tilted his head, staring at them with a smile.

“Do you like them?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Actually I do.”

The three continued to add, remove, and alter each other’s appearances for the rest of the class. Hermione’s lips turned purple, Draco grew another three inches, and Harry’s eyes turned blue. They spent most of the afternoon laughing at each other, making snide comments, and overall, enjoying each other’s company.

*

The Slytherin Quidditch team had practice that night, so Draco, Daphne, Goyle, and Blaise were gone for most of the evening. Due to her friends being out at practice, Pansy had pulled up a chair with the trio and sidled down to do some homework. For quite a while it was just the four of them, but eventually both Susan Bones and Sue Lie sat down to join them.

They were all working on homework from DADA, rifling through textbooks and scribbling answers on paper. The time passed smoothly. They chatted amongst themselves, sometimes conversing with others passing their table, sometimes laughing at each other and poking fun. Harry enjoyed it. He’d never really gotten to know Susan or Sue, and was glad that he was being given the chance to. Hermione was right, Sue was ridiculously funny, and he could see how Susan and Hermione had made fast friends through the years.

Susan flicked her long red plait over her shoulder, looking across the table. “Hey, Pansy?”

The dark-haired girl looked up from her textbook. “Yes?”

“Do you think you could show me how to do my eyeliner like that sometime? It looks really good.”

Pansy smiled broadly. “Yeah, for sure!”

“Where did you get all of your makeup?” Hermione voiced. “I thought witches usually just used their wands?”

Pansy blushed, looking at the table. “They usually do. I used to, too. But I came across an order form once in a magazine for muggle products like you use Hermione, and I just found them fascinating. I managed to get the conversion right I guess and order some. Now I get some for Christmas and my birthday… I don’t really know how my family manages to get them, but I’m grateful.”

Hermione smiled. “That’s really cool. If you want some, I could take you out to muggle London sometime. While we’re at it, I could show you some other fashion type things you’d probably like.”

Pansy’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’d do that?”

“Of course. Over Christmas maybe? But sometime for sure!”

Susan and Sue were smiling at the two girls, and then Sue piped up. “More makeup means you have to try some on us!”

Pansy laughed. “Duh.”

The common room door opened and in strode the Slytherin quidditch team. Daphne came though first, blond ponytail falling out. She waved at Pansy, grabbed some food from the platter laid out for them, then jogged upstairs. Blaise followed suit, and Draco emerged from behind him. Harry watched as he looked around the room, then flashed a smile at Harry when he saw him. Harry waved.

A moment later he plopped down in the empty chair beside Harry, and the Gryffindor looked up. His blond hair was dishevelled and messy because of the wind. Harry decided he liked it that way, and also that his silver and green quidditch robes hugged his body nicely. He looked very attractive. Furrowing his brows at himself, he shook the thought away. “Windy out, was it?”

Draco grinned. “Nah, just the speed of my broom.”

Harry snorted, but watched as he settled into his plate. Draco wasn’t one to just come and sit with a group of them doing homework when he was asked, or to do it and also act as though it was completely normal. Then it clicked. _Goyle. He was avoiding Goyle._

“How was practice?” Pansy asked.

Draco glanced up from his potatoes. “It was good. Practiced some new plays.”

“Do you think they’ll help?”

He pointed his fork at her as he chewed. “You know what? I think they will.” He nudged Harry with his elbow. “Gotta do something to keep this one away from my snitch.”

Harry rolled his eyes, then nudged him back. “Not gunna happen.”

“Whatever you say, Harry,” he sang, diving back into his potatoes.

Ron snorted. “You have to get passed me first, you know?”

“Well, seeing as you are the _King,_ I guess we will have to find a way around you. Shouldn’t be too hard though.”

He was teasing, and Harry couldn’t help but smile. Draco still had this snark to him, and he loved it. “Also means you have to get passed Ginny.”

His fork froze on the way to his mouth as he thought about it. “Now _that_ might be a problem.”

“Scared of my sister, Draco?”

Draco gave him a ‘duh’ look. “Everyone is afraid of your sister. Tell her to keep that bat-bogey hex away from me, please and thanks.”

Hermione was chuckling as she scribbled an answer on her paper, and Susan and Sue seemed amused, judging by the nodding and laughing coming from them. Pansy, across from Draco, was simply beaming at her friend, and Harry knew why. She didn’t get to see him like this much anymore. And Harry hoped beyond hope that they’d all see more of his sense of humour and snark over the coming months.

As he finished his plate, he glanced over all of their work materials. “What are you all working on?”

“Defense,” said Hermione without looking up from her book.

“Alright,” said Draco, standing from the table. “I’ll go get my stuff.”

When he sat back down to do homework, Harry smiled at him, as if he didn’t believe he’d really come back. Draco only cocked an eyebrow in mild amusement, before flipping through his textbook until he found the right section. 

Susan looked over at Draco, then the stack of textbooks beside him. “What other classes are you taking, Draco?”

“Hmm?” He looked up, then glanced at his pile. “Oh. Defense, potions, charms, transfiguration, ancient runes, arithmancy, and alchemy.”

“Alchemy?”

He turned to Hermione, who’s brow creased in confusion. “Yeah. It’s a really small class this year, there is only six or seven of us.”

She blinked at him. “I didn’t even know that was a class.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but only for the last two years of school. It’s not an OWL subject. It’s just an extra class, I guess.” 

“Why did you take it?” Harry asked.

“I find it really interesting. It’s kinda a mix of a bunch of classes, like transfiguration and potions. It teaches you about transmutation, and turning a substance into another form. My professor said it was very similar to a muggle subject called… chemistry, I think. Is that what it’s called?” He looked between Hermione and Harry, who both nodded. “Anyways, I find it fascinating.”

Harry couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at the sight of Draco, eyes lit up with passion. This was clearly something he truly enjoyed… something that was his own and not pressed on him or tainted by everything that had happened.

Sue looked down the table at him this time. “Why are you taking so many classes? Besides Hermione, you have to be taking the most NEWTs!”

He shrugged. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a stupid fuck.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m just kidding with you.” He smiled, a breathy laugh escaping. “Not many people know but I’ve always been right behind Hermione in grades, and I genuinely enjoy school. Though, I’m really not enjoying the arse-kicking I get every single year, thank you very much.”

Hermione glanced up at him from her book. “Sorry.”

“Ah, don’t give me that! You’re not sorry you little minx, and you know it!”

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “Can’t tell me I didn’t try.”

“Well you also don’t not try not to whoop everyone’s ass with your smart-ass intellect, Granger.”

“Better to be a smart-ass than a dumb-ass, Malfoy.”

“I guess I would know, Crabbe and Goyle did follow me around for seven years.”

The table burst into laughter, everyone staring between the two. Last year this would have seemed rude to Harry. Unfair and uncalled for. But there was no venom there. He wasn’t being mean, just very sarcastic. Harry supposed that’s probably how he normally was with Pansy and Blaise. As for Hermione, it was just plain teasing on both ends from academic rivals.

Harry thought his face might get stuck if he kept smiling, but he didn’t mind. He was beginning to genuinely like Draco as a person, if he hadn’t already, now that he was getting to know him. Intelligent. Funny. Snarky. Ambitious. Clever. Competitive. Artistic. Creative. The more he learned, the more he wanted to learn _more._ Of course, some of these things he’d already known, even if he’d tried not to admit it. The _Potter Stinks_ badges and ‘Weasley is Our King’ both proved his creativity, even if he was being a creative little shit. But now he was showing it to Harry through his drawings and doodles. He knew he had been clever to be able to figure out a loophole to complete his mission in sixth year, but now he was showing it through his homework, his studies, and how he managed to stay alive during Voldemort’s stay in his home. He was clearly ambitious and competitive before, based on quidditch games, but now he was taking 7 NEWTS while he’s dealing with other struggles, as well as trying to beat Hermione out for the top grade.

He wondered what it would have been like if they could have joked around when they were younger. If they had have talked like they do now, when they were eleven. If Draco had known then what he knew now about his family’s biases and perspective on the Weasleys and muggle-borns. Would they have been friends? Would they be close now? Would Harry have been able to help him in sixth year, to stay away from the dark-side? Persuade him to accept protection by the Order. Would Draco have confided in him that summer, when he was forced to take the mark? Would Harry have denied the hat putting him in Slytherin? Would they have been roomates? Would he have still stayed friends with Ron? Would he have become friends with Hermione? Everything would have been so different…

“Harry!”

“Huh?” He jerked his head up to stare at Hermione. “What?”

The table laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes. “I asked if you’d finished the tenth question yet.”

He looked down at his messy scrawl, cheeks heating up as he felt Draco’s smirk beside him. “Uh, no. No, not yet. Sorry.” He peeked up and she had gone back to her work, shaking her head at his daydreaming. Then he turned to Draco, placing a hand on his arm to get his attention. His icy eyes looked into Harry’s. “Did you know I was almost sorted into Slytherin?”

The table went quiet as Draco stared at him, spluttering. “I… you… you what? No, that’s not possible.”

Harry laughed. “I mean it! I argued with the fucking hat against putting me in Slytherin!”

“You argued with the hat,” he said, face blank.

“Yes! Because you had been a twat and people had told me about Slytherin and I told it ‘not Slytherin, anything but Slytherin.’ And so it put me in Gryffindor.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yes, Draco. Why is that so shocking?”

“I just…” he ran a hand through his hair. “Look at me and look at you. We are completely different. It put me in Slytherin before it even touched my head, Harry. And you’re nothing like me.”

Harry looked around the table at his friends, who seemed torn between actively listening and pretending like they weren’t. “We’re more alike than you think. A pawn in the war, our futures being decided for us when we were only children, not wanting what was being handed to us and then having it shoved down our throats. Just on different sides in the battle.”

Draco’s face softened. “But you’re good.”

“So are you. It just took you a while to realize it.”

Draco nodded, his body held tensely, but a smile on his face.

*

Harry, Ron, and Draco headed upstairs around midnight, smiles still lingering on their faces from the night’s antics. As they neared the stop, music and singing reached Harrys ears. The lamenting instrumental and deep voice became clearer outside the door, and Harry looked at both Ron and Draco, who seemed bewildered, before pushing the door open silently. Dean and Michael were standing in the middle of the room, Take Me to Church by Hosier blasting from a speaker. It was about three-quarters of the way through, and the two were belting it out. The other boys watched in either amusement or annoyance.

As the bridge came to an end, Harry stepped further into the room, leaving the other two staring from the doorway. “Amen,” Harry belted, causing Dean and Michael to look up at him with shocked smiles. He danced over to them as Seamus hopped off his bed and followed.

In the doorway, Ron looked over at Draco with a chuckle. “Sometimes I forget he understands all of the muggle pop-culture. He was really sheltered, but I guess he would have learned it over the summers and at school before he came to Hogwarts. Before he knew he was a wizard.”

Draco’s eyes didn’t divert from Harry. “He didn’t know he was a wizard?”

“No. His Aunt and Uncle despise people like us. They treated him real bad, and they hid it from him. Even tried to hide his Hogwarts letter.”

“I didn’t know that…”

“Well,” Ron smiled over at him. “I guess you were both pretty wrong about each other.”

“Yeah…”

“Now’s as good a time as any to ask him about it though. When you get a chance.” Draco nodded, eyes still transfixed on Harry, smiling as the song ended and Dean walked to his phone to change it. Some of the boys began clapping, and Draco joined in when Ron did.

Harry glanced over at them with a smile, and then his eyes lit up at the first chords of Pompeii by Bastille. He looked back at Dean. “I _love_ this song.”

He only looked away when a pillow came hurtling at Dean, smacking him in the face. “Enough with the music,” Theo groaned.

“What was that?” Dean hollered, turning the volume up even higher. “Did you say crank it up?”

Harry’s laughter boomed as he strode to Ron and Draco, pulling them by the arms. At first, they resisted, but Draco soon gave in. Harry had begun to sing along again, as had all of the other boys who knew the song. His eyes glinted with joy and Draco couldn’t resist him, allowing him to pull him to the center of the room to dance. Ron followed, acting reluctant but truly glad to see Harry happy and having fun. Seamus had pulled Neville and Blaise over, and Michael had brought Terry and a reluctant Theo. Justin joined on his own, dancing beside Dean. Soon, all of the boys were up and moving, except for Goyle, of course, who sat glowering against his headboard.

Harry sang and danced, causing Draco to laugh and try and keep up with Harry’s unconventional moves. Happiness, for the first time in years, seeped from him. Ran through his veins and showed itself in the crinkles by his eyes, the full sound of his laughter. It was addictive, seeing Draco like that, and Harry found himself deciding that he wanted to continue to make him this happy. Seeing him happy was addictive, and he craved it, every time he caught a glimpse. But moreover, he wanted to be the _cause_ of that wondrous smile that he seldomly saw these days. Harry wanted to be the reason behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know your thoughts! Also, go me! Two updates in one day, woohoo! -Emma :)


	14. Just Like Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco consoles Harry after a bad nightmare. The other boys think something's up.

Wednesday had been a hard day for Harry. He’d spent more time than he’d like to admit standing in front of the portraits of Lupin, Tonks, and Fred. They were beginning to emit some sounds, and Harry had taken to reading their lips. Lupin had been proud of him, as was Tonks. Fred did some sort of miming that Harry had chuckled at but not fully understood. He’d even meandered over to see the portrait of Colin Creevey, who flashed a huge smile as Harry stood in front of the small 16-year-old who would never age another year. Though it felt good at the time to see these people, he couldn’t push them and their sacrifices from his thoughts.

How could Lupin and Tonks be proud of him when he was the reason their son was an orphan? And some Godfather he was, returning to Hogwarts and leaving baby Teddy with Andromeda Tonks. At least Sirius had a good reason for being absent. And Fred… how come Fred wasn’t livid? He knew George was suffering, knew that he’d been separated from his twin because of Harry. His entire family was suffering because of _him._ And as many times as Ron had reassured him… he couldn’t stop the suffocating feeling that he was somehow no longer a part of the only true family he’d ever had—because he tore it apart. And Colin… too young to die, had snuck back into battle to fight for him, and Harry hadn’t been able to stop him. Hadn’t been able to save him. And by the time he knew about Colin, he was already dead.

Harry remained tense the rest of the day, mind whirling with questions and memories alike. By the end of the day he was overly quiet, causing Ron and Hermione to try and coax conversation out of him. He didn’t reply, and soon after Justin came by, telling the two Gryffindors that he saw Harry with the portraits that day. They stopped pressing him but kept a watchful eye.

As the boys headed to bed that night, many of them were goofing around. Blaise and Draco sat together on the latter’s bed, joking about something that had happened in between classes that day. Justin, Seamus, and Terry were stacking pillows on Michael’s back, stealing as many as they could before he woke up. Theo and Tony were standing by Ernie’s bed, the three of them discussing classwork (or at least that’s what they said), but many of the other’s assumed they were really discussing a prank they’d overheard one of the younger Slytherin girls was planning.

Ron watched as Harry drew his curtains, blocking him from everyone’s view. He sighed, not knowing what to do to draw Harry out of his own head, out of his spiral of depression and self-hatred. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he wandered over to Draco and Blaise, who were watching him with raised brows. The boys talked for a while, avoiding the topic of Harry and the chaos inside his head.

*

Draco was startled away from his reading in the middle of the night by a guttural cry for help. He could hear a few pairs of feet hit the floor, padding towards him. Nearly dropping his book, he closed it and set it aside, pushing himself up and listening for another scream. It came soon enough, long and strangled, from inside Harry’s curtains. His eyes widened as another burst came immediately after the last, the boys milling about nearby, hoping for someone close to him to wake him up. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, the cold of the floor making him hiss as he stood.

Neville, Justin, and Ernie stood off to the side, with Ron standing groggily and Blaise staring from where he’d sat up in bed. They all watched as Draco pushed past them all, reaching out for Harry’s curtains. Ernie grabbed his sleeve, raising his brows. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Draco opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by another drawn-out scream. Draco shuddered, knowing too well what caused screams like that. He stared at the other boy for a moment, before turning swiftly and slipping through the split in the curtains.

Harry laid on his back, twitching and convulsing by the means of invisible hands. His face contorted in pain, his chest heaving for air between the bouts of torture. Briefly, Draco wondered why he was being tortured, but quickly brushed it off. He sat on the edge of Harry’s bed, reached out and shook his arm gently. “Harry, wake up.” The other boy let out another scream. His whole body tensed, and then thrashed against the force attacking it inside his head. Draco shook him harder. “Harry, wake up!” His body shook as he started crying, tears slipping down over his temples as Draco shook him several more times. “It’s not real, Harry! Wake up!”

Harry shot up with a sob and a gasp, staring straight at Draco, terror and pain etched into every line of his face. He broke down, letting his head fall and sobs ripping from his body. His chest impossibly tight, Draco pulled Harry into his arms. Draco held Harry tight as he jolted and cried, horror and pain seeping from him as he sobbed into the Slytherin’s chest.

“It’s my fault!” Harry sobbed, barely able to choke out the words. “All my fault. My fault.”

“No it’s not,” Draco whispered. “It’s not your fault, Harry.”

“My fault. I couldn’t stop it!”

“None of this is your fault…”

Harry gasped for air, and Draco could feel his whole body shaking as his own often did after having crucio used on him. He shook his head against the blond’s chest. “I couldn’t save them… I never wanted any of this…”

Draco took a sharp intake of breath, a physical pain registering in his chest. He shook his head. “Harry…” The Gryffindor was inconsolable at the moment, and he had no idea how Harry had managed to calm _him_ down, let alone how to calm Harry down. He rested his head on top of Harry’s and rubbed his back as he let out all of his pent-up emotions. “Shh… you’re safe with me… no one is here to hurt you…”

Outside the curtains some of the boys had tried to go back to bed, but a few still stood nearby. Ron sat on Blaise’s bed, with Seamus and Dean nearby. Neville, Justin, and Ernie were still there as well. Ron and Blaise looked at each other, wondering if they were both thinking the same thing.

Justin turned to the two of them. “Is there something going on between those two?”

They looked at each other again, then Blaise blinked at the floor as Ron said, “Maybe. But I dunno for sure.”

“Mate.” Seamus let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t think there’s much of a maybe to that.”

Blaise looked up. “You don’t?”

Seamus looked at Dean, who only shook his head before dropping his gaze. When he looked backup he was smirking. “Have you payed any attention to Seamus and I? At all? Because… well…”

“They don’t act like you,” said Ernie, bewildered.

“Okay,” said Seamus, nodding with a smirk.

Neville stared at the curtains, then back at the group. “I see what you mean.”

“Me too,” said Ron.

“Me, as well,” said Blaise. “I just… I don’t want to say anything about it and freak either of them out.”

Dean waved a hand. “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

“It took us six years,” piped up Seamus.

“Yeah, well it’s taken them eight now,” Ron grumbled.

Blaise, Seamus, and Dean snickered, while Justin, Neville, and Ernie rolled their eyes. The cries and Draco’s incoherent mumbling from inside the curtain subsided and the group turned back to the curtains as if they could see through them to the pair of boys sitting in silence.

Stray tears leaked onto Draco’s shirt as Harry calmed. He was still trembling, but Draco suspected that was due to the dream crucio and not so much from fear. Harry pulled back, swiping at his face, watching Draco’s concerned eyes watching him. He sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

Draco attempted to cover his flinch of surprise by rolling his shoulders. “Don’t be. You did the same for me.”

“Yeah. I guess I did.” He studied his bed sheets for a moment, picking at a fluff before raising his eyes to meet Draco’s. “Thank you.” Draco nodded, still watching him with worried eyes. “You can go back to bed now.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am now. Just had a rough day is all.”

Draco nodded, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. But thank you.”

Draco nodded and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “G’night, Harry.” He turned and slipped out from the curtains to find the boys who were still up gawking at him. “What?” He followed their gaze down to his chest, where his grey shirt was dark with Harry’s tears. Now they all knew he’d been holding Harry while he broke down… and surprisingly, he didn’t care that they knew. He raised his brows. “What’s your point?”

Blaise snorted as Ernie said. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

“Hang on a minute,” a deep voice said. Goyle sat up from the darkness a few beds over. “Malfoy. Are you growing soft? Do I need to alert the press?”

“Oi!” Draco called, sneering at the larger Slytherin. “Goyle! Why don’t you shut your buffoon sized mouth! We don’t need your opinion.”

The boys around him laughed as Goyle glowered. “Whatever.”

Draco turned back to Blaise. “I’m gunna go back to bed now. G’night lads.”

A chorus of goodnights followed him back to his bed, where he drew the curtains. Flopping down on his bed he recalled the events that just happened. His reaction had been almost immediate when he realized it was Harry screaming… as if it was innate to go to him. Like it was second nature. And yet, even though he’d never done it, it didn’t feel wrong or weird.

He recalled the last time that Harry had had a nightmare and how uncomfortable he’d been watching the other boy’s pain. How much he’d wished he could’ve gone to him. How his number neighbour had said to go to him anyways, and how he’d appreciate it, even though the two of them had never been friends. He’d been right, of course.

Draco smiled to himself and rolled over onto his side. Maybe he should ask this boy for advice more often.

Outside Draco’s curtains, Blaise still sat with Ron in silence. The two were utterly bewildered, but somehow, not at all surprised. Blaise chuckled to himself, recalling Draco’s reply to Goyle.

Ron turned to him, brows raised. “What’s so funny?”

“Just… what Draco said to Goyle.”

“Why?”

“It.. that’s just so like him. And I haven’t seen that side of him much lately. He always was a snarky little shit, but with us he was just plain funny. But now Goyle isn’t _one of us_. Not anymore. So… I don’t know. It’s funny that now of all times I catch a glimpse of that side of him.”

“Why? Because he’d just been consoling Harry?”

“That’s exactly why. Because he was showing his caring side that not many people get to see. Clearly Goyle never saw it, but I did sometimes. And speaking of him consoling Harry… that patch on his shirt?”

“I guess Seamus and Dean might be right.”

Blaise smirked. “He was clearly holding Harry right against his chest. I mean, when I’ve gotten him through nightmares or vice-versa we’ve hugged each other, but never like _that.”_

“Very true.”

“You may not realize it, but that is _also_ very like him.”

“It is?”

Blaise looked over at Draco’s closed curtains, a smile gracing his lips. “More than you might ever know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So sorry for the lack of updates recently! I got my wisdom teeth out, had exams for my summer class, and kind of became a part of a new fandom. One of my best friends got me into this anime called Bungo Stray Dogs and now I'm addicted. I've written some one shot's for it so if you're also a fan, maybe check them out! I've never watched anime before but I relly enjoyed it! Anyways, the next chapter of this story as well as Unmasked should be up soon! Thanks for reading and let me know your thoughts! Until next time. -Em :)


	15. Quick Update (Good News)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note!

Hey all! I just wanted to let you know that I am not done with this story! I will continue to write it and I actually have a half-finished chapter open right now! I've just been so busy with work training and school and I didn't have many chapters planned out like I normally would so I was struggling a little to get this chapter written. But I am determined to get it done and finish this story! Thank you all for the continued support, and I'll see you all soon! 

-Em 


	16. Not That Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I've been gone, guys. I really am. I'll explain more in the end notes. 
> 
> The next morning, Draco thanks his number neighbour for advice. Harry and Hermione chat in potions class and Harry is oblivious as ever.

Harry woke the next morning to Ron shaking him. “Get up, Harry! Hermione was just at the door asking if we were ready to go to breakfast.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Harry grumbled, rolling out of bed and sliding his glasses onto his face. Ron backed out of his curtains so he could change his bottoms, and then Harry slid them back open, slinging his shirt onto both arms.

“How’re you feeling this morning?”

“Not bad. When I fell back asleep, I slept like a rock.”

Ron smiled. “That’s good. It’s what you needed.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, fiddling with his tie. “I’ve been having nightmares nearly every night, they just hadn’t been bad enough yet for me to thrash around, I guess. But last night was… bad.”

“Well I’m glad you’re okay and got back to sleep. Gave us all a bit of a scare.”

“Heh… sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ron waved a hand. “Could’ve been me waking everyone else up. It was Neville a few days ago. Before that it was Justin. It happens to all of us.”

Harry nodded, shrugging his robes on. “That’s true. I just feel really bad when I wake people up because I know how hard it is for some of us to sleep at all.”

“I know, mate, but it’s not your fault.”

“I know that. It just… gets to me sometimes.”

Ron nodded. “Ready to go?”

Harry slung his bag onto his shoulder. “Yeah, let’s head out.”

The Great Hall was bustling with students when they walked in, as per usual, the smell of eggs and sausage mingling with the sugary sweet scent of cereals like Pixie Puffs. Yawning, Ron slid onto the bench beside Hermione and gave her a peck on the cheek.

She smiled. “Good morning.”

Harry poured himself some Pixie Puffs and immediately tucked in. Hermione looked up at him from her textbook. “Are you feeling better today, Harry?” He glanced up with raised brows. “Well, you weren’t yourself yesterday and Ron told me about last night…”

“Yeah, I’m okay now.”

“Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m _fine,_ Hermione. I appreciate it, but I’m coping. Some days are hard, but you will either be able to tell or I’ll let you know. Yeah?”

She nodded. “Of course. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know you only ask because you care about me.”

“I do. Very much. And I’m glad that you’re feeling better today. Also glad that Draco was able to calm you down last night so you weren’t by yourself.”

Harry felt himself flush and forced his eyes down to his cereal. “Yeah. Me too.”

She went back to her reading, presumably more Ancient Runes as she was translating something for Ron. He hummed and then asked her, “Say, did you ever figure out that rune that was giving you and him a hard time the other day?”

“I didn’t, but Draco did. Last night. He came over to me in the common room with a piece of parchment and a wicked grin and I just _knew_ he’d beaten me to the answer.”

“You made a game out of it?” Harry asked, amused.

“I guess,” she laughed. “He’s very competitive, but we were also kind of helping each other so I guess it wasn’t that much of a competition.”

“Harry and Cedric helped each other in the Triwizard Tournment,” Ron pointed out, looking smug.

“That’s not the same thing, Ronald! They could’ve died…” Her voice petered out as she realized what she’d said, her eyes glancing at Harry.

He glanced up from his email inbox to look at her. “Can we please _not_ talk about the tournament? It’s bad enough that I went through it but now there’s rumours of another one so I can’t forget what happened even if I wanted to.”

“Sorry,” Ron and Hermione both said.

Harry continued to scroll through his inbox, selecting one from Professor Sprout about needing extra help with mandrakes. Harry cringed, shaking his head at it. Then a banner spanned the top of his screen and his eyes scanned the notification.

Draco Malfoy: ‘Hey. I just wanted to thank you for the advice. The same guy as before had a nightmare last night and I went and checked on him.’

His fingers flew over the keys. _‘And what did u do when he woke up?’_

‘I just comforted him until he calmed down. It was a really bad nightmare. Took me a few minutes to wake him up, but when I did I didn’t know what to do he was so upset. I hope I did okay.’

Harry’s heart fluttered in his chest and he mentally scolded himself. Of course, Draco had done fine. Harry recalled startling awake, out of that cruel place, and the first thing he saw was worried silver eyes watching him. He remembered Draco’s hand on his arm, soothing against his own clammy skin. Felt himself break down from the pain and overwhelming distress he’d felt that day, the trauma he’d relived in the dream… remembered Draco pulling him into a tight, comforting embrace where he was allowed to feel everything as it escaped his body, and being held against his chest as he fell apart…

‘ _I’m sure you did perfectly fine.’_

‘I think I should ask for your advice more often ;)’

Harry chuckled out loud at that, causing Ron to glance up at him. ‘I’d be happy to oblige ;)’

Harry went back to his cereal, snorting as he watched Seamus down the table slap Neville in the face with a sausage. He squinted at them, wondering how on earth he was friends with them. Ironically, of course. He loved them, all of the boy’s he’d spent the last eight years with.

Another text from Draco lit up his screen. ‘So Ive told u a lot about me. Can u tell me about u at all?’

Harry bit his lip as he replied. ‘ _like what? What do u wanna know?’_

‘Idk… whats ur fav subject’

Harry smiled. ‘ _easy. DADA. U?’_

‘potions…’

_‘u dont sound so sure.’_

‘shut it. How about something you like to do?’

‘ _I really love Quidditch.’_

‘Me too! R u on ur house team?’

‘ _That’s classified.’_

‘Come on!’

_‘Nope. Sorry ;)’_

‘Fine. Uh… do u have a girlfriend?’

Harry glanced down the table to where Ginny sat with Luna. She waved at him and he waved back, glad that they were on such good terms. ‘ _Nah. Not for a while now.’_

‘Sorry to hear that. I hope it wasn’t a bad split.’

‘ _Not at all! Still good friends. Hbu? Got a girlfriend?’_ Harry had mostly been asking the questions back although he already knew the answer, but for this once in particular, he was genuinely curious.

‘That’s good to hear. And no… I’m not really into girls.’

‘ _Wdym?’_

‘I’m gay. I like blokes.’

Harry froze, a rush running through his body. He blinked a few times at the table and reread the text at least twice more. _‘Do u have a boyfriend then?’_

‘Nope. I haven’t been so lucky in that department.’

Harry smiled in spite of himself. ‘ _I’m sure that won’t last too long. How long have u known u were gay?’_

‘Id say… about 4 years.’

_‘R u out? To anyone?’_

‘Fuck no! My life would be hell if I was. Especially bc of recent events.’

Harry thought about that for a moment. Would it be the student body giving him flack? Maybe… The press? Again, maybe… His parents…? Harry could see Lucius being upset but not Narcissa, she loved him too much. And he couldn’t see Pansy or Blaise being bothered by it… ‘ _What recent events?’_

‘Can’t tell u that. U will know who I am. Just trust me.’

‘ _Okay.’_

‘You don’t hate me?’

Harry’s heart lurched. He hated that Draco would even have to ask that. That there were people on this planet that were big enough assholes to hate on somebody because of who they love or who they’re attracted to, when there are so many _real_ problems on this earth that need attending to. ‘ _Course not.’_

‘Funny. If u actually knew me, you would.’

‘ _U cant be that bad.’_

Harry frowned when he read the last text, wanting to respond, but it was time to go to class. ‘U dont know the half of it.’

*

Potions, as the last class of the day, seemed to drag by. Harry sat with Hermione, cutting and weighing while she took care of the cauldron. They sat in relative silence while the rest of the class chatted, both caught up in their own thoughts.

Finally, while stirring another ingredient into the mix, she turned to Harry. “So, how’s the ‘number neighbour’ situation going?”

“Shh,” Harry hissed, checking that Draco hadn’t heard her. He hadn’t, as he was chatting idly with Blaise. “It’s going fine.”

“Okay, meaning…?”

“Meaning I’m talking to him a lot, both in person and over text.”

“What do you guys talk about?”

Harry shrugged, staring at the knife slicing his gurdyroots. “I dunno. Anything, really.”

“Has he been talking to you about… you know…what’s going on?”

“Yeah. We’ve talked about it quite a bit, actually. He’s told me about some of what happened to him during the war and how it came to be. About, uh… different symptoms he’s experiencing.” She raised her brows. “After that fire in charms he kept pushing me away, saying he was fine even though he was crying on the floor and Goyle had just shoved him into the wall and blamed him relentlessly for his friend’s death. Oh, and also telling him that he’d make his life a living hell.”

Her eyes widened. “He said that?”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I went over to him after Goyle left and he just kept saying he was fine. I told him that I knew he wasn’t and that he was allowed to _feel_. But he said he’s never been allowed to and… I dunno, Hermione. He told me a lot of things I bet he never would have admitted before, especially to me. And then later he texted me about it, not knowing it was me of course, but he told me he thinks he has PTSD and anxiety, which makes sense. I mean, a lot of us do. And we talked about what happens when it’s bad and what helps and what doesn’t, and how he should tell people he trusts…”

“He’s starting to trust you. Both versions of you.”

“Yeah…”

“How do you feel about that?”

He thought about that for a moment, handing her another handful of ingredients. “Happy. I knew something was wrong and pursued it, and now he’s opening up to me. I can support him more, now that I know what’s going on.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s good.”

“Are you mad?” Harry asked, cringing slightly.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “No, Harry. Before, I would’ve found it odd, but I mean, look at me. Friends with Pansy freakin Parksinson.” Harry laughed, quirking his head in agreement. “Besides, you two aren’t that different. I think it will be good for you both, actually.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, eyes wandering to Draco. When his eyes snapped back to Hermione, she was smirking. “What?”

“Nothing, Harry,” she replied, brushing him off. He scowled, watching her chuckle to herself.

He returned to slicing ingredients, consulting his textbook every few minutes. Eventually, his eyes found their way back to Draco, watching as the other boy smiled and laughed at a joke Blaise made. The concentration on his face as he placed ingredients in the cauldron and stirred.

“Harry, you’re doing it again.”

His head whipped around to her. “What?”

“Staring at Draco.”

“No, I’m not!” She gave him a stern look and he rolled his eyes with a groan. “If you or Ron say one more time about sixth year—”

“It’s only been a few weeks and you’re already acting the same way.”

“I am not! I’m just worried about him, ‘Mione.”

She sighed. “That’s not what I’m taking about, Harry.”

He grew impatient, throwing his arms up. “Then what is it, then? Huh?”

She stared at him for a minute as if wondering how thick he really was. Then she pursed her lips and turned back to the cauldron. “Nevermind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I'm so sorry for disappearing for literal months. My mental health fell through a wormhole or something, I broke up with my boyfriend of two and a half years, was dealing with summer school and barely passing and then fell down the fandom hellhole of a show that really helped pull me out of a dark place. So I'm very grateful for the Bungou Stray Dogs community because I don't know if I'd be functioning without it. I was so stressed guys, I'm 19 and my roots are grey what the hell. But I am back and excited to see where this story goes! As promised, here is an update, and I very much hoped that you enjoy it.
> 
> I am also doing one-shot commissions for multiple fandoms right now so if you are interested, leave me a comment and I will send you the link to a google form! I have also began an instagram for the other fandom I mentioned above, but it is also being used for writing updates and other miscellaneous things, so if you would like to chat or anything, send me a DM @soukokous_shared_braincell . You can also DM me there about commissions, or on my tumblr (which I hope to become more active on) destiel--loves--pie.
> 
> Until next time, guys! -Emma :)

**Author's Note:**

> Her everyone, so this is my first chapter of this story! Let me know what you think! I love hearing thoughts and feedback. Until next time, Emma :)


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